i got a sick mental, shit no wonder imma ill spitter//
my punchlines'll swing n dismantal a bitch dental//
i pick pistols that i grip, let it rip n lift you//
u boys cooked, i am raw over an instramental dawg//
u boys look for hoes, hoes come to me//
luvin me, like, luckily my dick is long enuff to fit em all//
i dont rap, listen boi i unwravel crack//
laffin at the game the game cuz most rappas in it cant spit at all//
but most of em can, shit i aint makin a diss but see//
i aint mainstream n makin history//
youngest in charge, i drank, then get a couple a brawds//
run em till like 4 a.m., then, kick em out of the fuckin door//
i want more cash, i'll shoot plenty to get it//
vicious wen i bite down, n inject the grimey-ist of venoms//
u boys just snakes, i'll chop atcha ya head//
spark atcha garment, pop, n let it hop u like rabbit legs//
lets go

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