Known to da world as Mr. 187-11 shots to ya dome, bloodied up, wasn't even excepted in heavan\
Still elevated, lyrical ways are alternated, i could rhyme bout my act, or da girls i dated\,
But i ain't no sweet emcee,like ya'll Ja-Rule wanna-be\
I ain't gotta be a Thug to make a nigga start to bleed\
I'll run up to spot, bust twelve shots, with 15secs on my stop watch, turnit up a notch, frame ya boys, and call da cops\

Chorus: Im dat nigga dats messin wit ya block, Im dat nigga dats pissin off da cops, Mess wit dis and u mess wit 2 glocks, Make it look like a accident, like two whiteboys smokn pot.

Im dat lil nigga, nobody would expect, to flip ya deck, have ya ass prayn to mecc-a-nigga lose sleep, i reverse da way i speak, off it set, they way i creep, u end up in a trash heap\

My verbal spit, quick to make ya lip numb, from da shock that my lyrics make ya take 10 tums, gievn ya heartburn, i rip niggas jus fo fun, Fuck it, ima click submit, cuz im done