Bit of fantasy, i ain't gotta gun, honest!

Tell me who the fuck are ya?
i'm gonna buck at ya,
if i ain't got a gun, u get a knife stuck in ya

y'all too easy, you ain't even a test,
i got my gun in my hand and my homies is set
yet,

i don't hurt women,
and i don't hurt babies,
and if i ever did, i'd want god to slay me

but he don't mind you dyin' cos i ain't dead yet,
so skull meet bullet, i think it's time that you met

and shell meet stomach, and slug meet chest,
i'm laughin' as i'm blastin' and i'm smokin' some sess

weed, weed, yes sir please,
i get my ganja flown in from the west indies,

but times were hard,
times once were rough,
i couldn't get weed,
all i smoked was puff

i hated that shit,
'specially when it burnt my fingers,
and it got no flavour, i need a taste that lingers

and you can betcha life jack, that i won't smoke crack,
i won't ever do pills,
i won't ever do smack,

and the only thing i'll smoke apart from my weed,
is your ass motherfucker, now it's time to bleed

ill shoot you in the head, leave a hole you can see through,
i got a sixth sense cos i see dead people

i stay on point just like a steeple,
the grim reapers waitin over there,
i'll try not to keep you

you tried your best to get me but your best was just feeble,
so, fuck you, goodbye punk,
there's no sequel