Like every dumb G, I got me some nasty teargas story for y'all to perceive... listen
Fuck those dicks tellin' me to forget her, to just disrespect her
How the fuck can I neglect her? After all this much trouble, you think it's easy to just reject her?
How much explenation can I confer? It's another chance for pain to recur
Know that I'm no amateur, I've been in the biz, waitin' for her kiss, the reminisce is still strong
I hail on my only bliss: this stale bottle of ale, as I inhale, I see no prevail
Only exit is death and I ain't that thought-pale. I'll never let another chick be trippin' on me
Never let another G poisen my heart like she, for I can't disagree hoe filled me with glee
Still it's no "monde finis" that I've lost my P, BDP said it's free, but I still regard as PE
Any boma who'd wanna make me see it's no tragedy that my G is no longer down with me
Tellin' me "Hey, you'll find another girl!" Bitch, you make me hurl! Who are you to twirl with words like that?
Just swirl back to your parasite habitat! You ain't nothin' but a brat! Pretendin' to be wise
I'm sorry, you confuse vomit with an advice. You think a seemingly important word crapped in a trice
Makes you big in my eyes, you nappy dogout, I can sprout fungus that I'm more proud off than yer council
I'd rip out yer touncil and bounce all against the floor, against the bathroom door, and then come back and kick yer ass some more
Damn sore of your inutility. You resemble Benzie D, but at least he's got cretinity, or maybe even idiocity
And contingency of fate as an excuse of his abuse of lack of brain cells, cuz, see, he didn't chose to lose his mind
But here I find your weird ass giving advice again and tellin' me how to act, my friend, it's got only one effect
It makes me react, like my homie Sect when he gets pissed on a fag, goin' zigzag, like ya fucked ass up on a crag
You think I talk crap? This rap's dense, see the last couple o' rhymes they make no sense
Hence by now you probably think my brain cells begin to condense, as my spits reach you over the fence.
Lemme object, you jack-off woosypants. Cuz while I'm peeling my flow, openin' my portico
For faker personas than J.Lo at day, at night I sit in my bungalow, my rage is on swo, as I think of the imbroglio
I had to go through for this dream of this duo we formed. Only so this oreo of a peccadillo of nature
Mixed with the IQ of a pillow could capture it and rapture on cloud nine. He's a snatcher
And she's too easy, can't say it's too fuckin' sleezy! I'm not usually that cheesy! What's wrong?
It's crazy! Where's the old lazy, fucked up, Jay-Z hatin' son of a bitch, who used to switch bitchez' drinking soda
With toilet water and load a motherfucker in his niche and snitch any respect in sight? Don't take this so light!
Motherfuckers know this bitch has gotten me all sandwitched up with pitched up ideas
Where's the OG which used to ditch any itch caused by a twitch with the flick of a wrist? That's rich!
One hoe and the beast is history? No more feast for me? Reach for the 3 cuz you can't rely on ye fist I see
Heehee! This is ill! How one bitch be havin' the skill to chill any human feel, just like a pill? I think not! More of just like a Dill!
But me be still down with my boys, and though hoes be treatin' us like toys, a jone's still what we enjoy
Never let a bitch destroy yer dreams, although they will annoy you and it seems we'll never smarten, b-boy, here's the convoy:
Prowler's the man with the plan, he ain't on prozac, always threats he'll run you over with a sedan
Sect is the one with the baggy clothes, a juxtapose of talent and temper, also he be confused with a hose, cuz of the size of his nose
Pose up on his throne, to him nothing's unknown, never wrong, no need to condone, up to the microphone, it's no drill, 'tiz the illest trick of us, Giovanottius
Chill cuz here comes the black barge with the man still livin' it large. Give it up for my homeboy, Skarj!
Charge no credit at all, standin' tall, whatever we do, we cannot take a fall.
So y'all, havin' the back of one another, still packin' a whole lotta trips, cuz each is a baller, grabbin' more respect than Robbie Fowler
Cause we get it done like a prowler, now that you've met the pack, hollar!
This announcement has been payed for by the sore legion of gore, and if you bitchez want more, get ready for a 2 to 4
Grab ya wallet and row cuz we're in the next best store grabbin' the last malt 64, laughin' it out, wettin' 'em trees
Believe me! Nuttin' but respect, from the crew and yours truly... the K-D-O-G.

__________________

KANO

To be a wolf, it doesn't suffice to run with the pack

K-DOG