*steps ta tha mic*

Part 1
You couldnt follow in my footsteps if i just walked-threw-the-sand/
And i'll treat you like a deaf kid and make you 'talk-to-the-hand/ i could merk ya whole crew all ya manz-will-be-bruised/
someone call pet rescue cos this dog cant handle-his-food/
i dismantle-this-dude you choke-right when the rope's-tight/
feds dont pull up to u cos they no u aint the 'dope-type'/
Ive Dug his grave i'll push-him-then-burry-ya/
When it comes to my crew, ur not welcome, like Muslims-in- america/
I placed bombs in ya hand that tick-in-ya-palm/
And that tattoo of your mom dont count as a 'chick-on-your-arm''/


Part 2
Word up, now while ya sittin there tuff/
I can see you a “pussy” eventhough you dont have ya “skirt up”
Its like Im battling “Muhammed Ali” cuz u been “shaking-from-da-start”/
Compare me to ya “ex-girlfriend”... only Ill physicly “brake-your-heart”/
Pop 3 in ya chest, them aim for ya head and not ya vest/
Stab you in the neck, I dont need no “cuffs” to put you into “a-rest”/
Im in the “Book of Guiness” for most cats killed you faggot/
And even if ya would “slap my cd” u still couldnt “beat my record”/
Now check it I pack pistols, talking bout guns and you gonna get hurt/
Cause you couldnt hold “2 nines” if ya raised an “Wayne Gretzky shirt”/


OOOHHH
str8 key right there

spit nigga