Get ready bitch, cos I spit fire/
I'll pop yo candy ass, like a knife to a tyre/
I spit chemical shit, poison and toxic/
I'ma take off head, hang it off a rope and box it/
Then I'ma drop you, with my nine millin gun/
Pick up the pace, move yo little feat and run/
Cos 'fore you know it, I'ma fuckin' be done/
And there'll be a six inch hole thru the back of ya son/
If anyone'd wanna, make a son wit you/
I'd figure they'd rather wanna put a blade thru you/
There's another dilemma, fuckin' you's impossible/
No dick, but I won't go into detail, that path's uncrossable/
I'll put you in a ce-me-tary, bury you wit yo measly vo-cab-ulary/
But look at mine, spine, back, kneecap and nuts/
I'ma break em all, then I'ma cut up yo guts/



........ ok u spit now