damn son, seems ya on fire, glow'n, shinin' like heaters.//
flowin' violent, representin' La Familia.//
I planned ta defeat ya, but can't which leads me.//
ta join' enig-->matic.//
we bringin' quality, others bringin head phone static.//
rappin' like crack addicts, with violent back spasms.//
fire gats backwards, hit tha sweet spot between the eyes.//
.. do I look dead nigga, nah I'm alive.//
survived suicide with no surprise like I'm the underworlds poster child.//
watch as I coast through rhymes, easier than runnin' trains on nymphos who sniff coke lines.//
when LaFamilia ener the room all hope dies.//
tha competition frantic try'n to memorize... pre-written shit.//
meanwhile we sit an' spit, freestyles like we was rhymin dick.//
tionarys, flip script like movie re-writes and sip on tripple shot bloody marys'.//

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