Yeah, 1 2
Yo Oh No
This shit crazy pop
Look, 1 2
Aiight, look
Yeah
Lick shots like they would do with the fever
Stab 'em dead or a Pompeii, Julius Caesar
Knife work nice, show you what to do with a cleaver
Son mounafikoun, he a truthful deceiver
Supplication on the plains of Arafat
Peurto Ricans everywhere, they talk to me in Arawak
Money always [?], and I'ma pull the barrel back
Knowing damn well he couldn't see me like a cataract
Where the organ grinder partner, tell me where the Tommy at
And riddle him with bullets in him, move him like an army rat
Anarchist and Marxist, you listening to Commie rap
Self-proclaimed God so the fuck if I'ma honor that
This rap tried to get me book like a library
My shot unorthodox like Shawn Marion
Powers of pain, Animal Hawk and barbarian
You beaten by the fist of God so Paul bury 'em
One gun, two gun, three gun, four
It ain't an adversary that's ready to go to war
One gun, two gun, three gun, four
A hundred round drum and it'll clear the fuckin' floor
I told y'all not to fuck with me
Kidnaps takin' the kids like full custody
Every rhyme like my first, I spit hungrily
Y'all don't know cheese and wine out in Tuscany
Y'all think having a rack is called luxury
All bark and no bite, you not touching me
It's too dark for you, the wind is too blustering
I don't like cops or opps in my company
The trap boys still cookin' the brick
And it's raw so it look like they cookin' the grit
If I counted every bottle that I took to the dick
I'd lose count pa, I was in a room full of shit
You cupcaked out, still bitchin' 'bout a jawn
End-game talkin' 'bout a bishop verse a pawn
You dead goin' to sleep, listenin' to birds chirpin'
The type of asshole to be talkin' in third person
One gun, two gun, three gun, four
It ain't an adversary that's ready to go to war
One gun, two gun, three gun, four
A hundred round drum and it'll clear the fuckin' floor
Yeah, yeah
Pack Pistol Pazzy and all that, the Sicilian Shooter
Y'nam sayin'?
Philly in this mahfucker, yeah
That's the law
