run, gunnz.... shoot, and take 'em out//
wheres the funin that, that pian dies out//
musta had doubt, no confidence in ya skill//
far from real, u not big, only cowards kill//
my gramma holds steel, ya need to up ya weight//
let ya fist situate and then rest ya case//
the victor inticipate, the loser goes home//
stories told like spirituals, rematch post-poned//
u claim ya throne, put inwork to become a winner//
conscience of sinners, anyone can pull a trigger//
crowned defender, u left wit a black eye//
no one died, u continue to live ya lives//
theres no prize, defense mechanism abstrosity//
still watchin these shawties use guns improperly//
there has got to be sum real thugs left//
not relyin on smith and wess, global threat//
take away breath, play God at a faster rate//
be a man and use ya hand, like u masturbate//

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Lyrical Rapsody