as i cluch the pistol i got ma finger on the trigger/
your hair stands up and ya pupils gettin bigger/
you talken way too much/
bitch dont you know you can get touched/
ill cut you with a knife or a knights blade/
then again i could plan a bomb on you, then hold on to your life like a grenade/
the bullets fly out basically sprayed/
you hiden more than wychlef in his album "masquerade"/