When we light the blunt we choke, only chronic gets smoked// Concords full of Meth-Heads-N-Coke, Even the best-get-broke N fucc round the block kid ya Chest-Will-Explode//Take to the grill wit a chainsaw 'till ya Brains-Gone N flesh stretched cross ma walls like elastic// N Fucc punks who pack-plastic, N got mo to say than the #of spokes on daytons// Insane like a mental patient, n its fatal when KO loses patients...// Swish ers get ripped down the middle like old-nikes, Theres a blade to your face when I hold-knifes // Since birth I stole lifes, Smash a blazer N wit' Baking soda i cut your coke like a razor// Make ya throw up like killin a fith of vodka wit' no chaser...
~~Chorus or whatever~~
Ma words got mo' punches tyson boxin', Slowly-Diein' cuz ma bloods toxic //Livin' life gothic N like new sneakers theres bodies in Boxes //My topics are obnoxious, When I schmob the ride i Box-It n the knock'll-leave-ya-unconsious//Theres no stoppin'-this take over so stay-out, Rhymes get played-out N hits fade-out like old Jeans//All we do is cut blunts N fold em at the seam, Hit n Run bloods on ma cars beams//Hit-the-blunt N spit lugis at ma feet... // Drugs get tooken in a quick hand-off, Pheins snort grams-off they palm till their noses-gone//Pop ma collar as this gangsta gets his flows-on// If they chose-wrong cut em from the throat n down-on or drown-em in the years of tears of the innocent crieing..
~~~Blah~~~
Some faggets need to keep their moth-shut, spittin' ta ma bloods like ma mouth-was-cut// Bust on bitches, turnin red when i lift-they-blouse-up// Collect on foos like allowance, Ounce blunts push me past-limits// Ill blast-n-cut-these-men-ta-midgets, Pushin back hammers like they was Beyonces-Digits// Nah fuck you N fuck-it... Bitch-Scream, Test me i clown on fags worse than a circus, Fuck up your whole surface on purpose// I see it they nervous cuz KO shadyer folks than Al Pacionos lenses, situations get intense// Suspense cuz im smokin on blunts of weed-N-Cocaine, I aint playin kids I got that shit you wanna spark like propane // Ima pro-in-this-game... Feel-No-Pain...
~~Chorus or whatever~~
Ma words got mo' punches tyson boxin', Slowly-Diein' cuz ma bloods toxic //Livin' life gothic N like new sneakers theres bodies in Boxes //My topics are obnoxious, When I schmob the ride i Box-It n the knock'll-leave-ya-unconsious//Theres no stoppin'-this take over so stay-out, Rhymes get played-out N hits fade-out like old Jeans//All we do is cut blunts N fold em at the seam, Hit n Run bloods on ma cars beams//Hit-the-blunt N spit lugis at ma feet... // Drugs get tooken in a quick hand-off, Pheins snort grams-off they palm till their noses-gone//Pop ma collar as this gangsta gets his flows-on// If they chose-wrong cut em from the throat n down-on or drown-em in the years of tears of the innocent crieing..
~~~Blah~~~
Some faggets need to keep their moth-shut, spittin' ta ma bloods like ma mouth-was-cut// Bust on bitches, turnin red when i lift-they-blouse-up// Collect on foos like allowance, Ounce blunts push me past-limits// Ill blast-n-cut-these-men-ta-midgets, Pushin back hammers like they was Beyonces-Digits// Nah fuck you N fuck-it... Bitch-Scream, Test me i clown on fags worse than a circus, Fuck up your whole surface on purpose// I see it they nervous cuz KO shadyer folks than Al Pacionos lenses, situations get intense// Suspense cuz im smokin on blunts of weed-N-Cocaine, I aint playin kids I got that shit you wanna spark like propane // Ima pro-in-this-game... Feel-No-Pain...
