Nigga, don't get it twisted on me
Remember who the fuck I am, nigga
Nah fuck that, lemme show you
Two-hundred round!
(First gear)
I make a murder with two hundred rounds of venom, I get in 'em
Make you wish you had a wish
You bitches supersoak your denim
I be in some sicker shit you wanna bitch about it
Bring your bitch around and we gon' see if she'll lives with you in
The end, I make her friend and take her
End up burning rubber undercover
And I smother anyone give me a minute and some butter
I don't talk about it, better be about it
Never doubt a motherfucker
Who done spent a gang of time up in the gutter
(Switch gears!)
Puttin' the work in, ain't no buster
Feelin' the rush and put 'em in dust
On top of the roof, I'm ready to bust
I'm choppin' 'em all into minimal nuts
And droppin' them all in a riddle with us
I fill the streets up with they death, Beretta issue, bullet
Bitch around I bet you on the bus
So quit your bitchin' and your dissin', don't nobody even listen
But to mention that you wish you bustin' back to pay attention
But you weep before you speak
You better be thinkin' about the demon
Comin' up into the house to meet you
With the blade to cut the tension
Open 'em up when they mumble a word about the Brainsick
I behave like I ain't got no kinda sense
I mean I'm really on the fence
I'll turn your meat up into mince
I make examples out you bitches
I'll be damned if I'ma let you go to sleep before I rinse your blood up on my hand I take you deep into the voodoo ritual
You probably thought about it, "shit, I'll diss him in a video
And maybe he'll respond and boost my music"
And I lose a couple thousand followers
And quit your job because you finna blow
