I'll let u hear real murda muzic//
I'm not givin u an option so u can't refuse it//
the sound of me emptyin my clip, u scream from body damage//
trigger click changin pitch, like Pachabell's Cannon//
the melodic famine//
u listen to my tunes so you can meet the sandman//
blood drippin on the pavement at a constant rythm//
at the funeral listenin to gospel hymnals//
MIA, 12 shells hit ya temple//
ya head ringin eternally like the clashin of cymbals//
when the DE hit u it's like I turned up the bass//
hear the sound waves fly right by ya face//
new symphony, next Brahms and Bethoveen//
melodies created from the heat that I'm holdin//
now you and ya crew's occupyin the street floor//
witnesses watchin, askin me fo an encore//