… Wordsmith …
[Chorus: Big Scarr]
Woah, twenty-three shots like I’m Michael Jordan
Choke slam the pack like I’m Randy Orton
Get to the bread, give a f- what you niggas doin’
Break on a bitch, leave her feelings
The way that I walk on the beat can’t nobody do it
Birkin my bitch, change her attitude
Strapped up during a show, better think ‘fore you try to do it
Buss down the play, that’s an alley-oop
Switch hit his gut, now he gotta eat Campbell soup
No cap on the beat, this sh- factual
I put the gang on the map, now we national
If you ain’t from my side, then I’m taxin’ you
My bitch, she bad, got a body like Betty Boop
Can’t save her name, that’s my lil’ whoopty-whoop
She hate when I be telling lies ‘cause she know the truth…
I've got my pistol pawn cocked
Ready ta lay shots nonstop until I see your monkey ass drop
And let your homies know who done it
Cuz when it comes to this gangsta sh*t you mother.....kers know who run it
(Uh)
So when you put this mother....ker to the test
You gotta realize somethin' n....: you ....kin' wit the very best
I got this killa up inside of me
I can't talk to my mother so I talk to my diary