while you cuddlin a harlot i sleep with the four official pistol gang we be the reapers of war it doesn t mean that you welcome cause you kick in the door i m the boss why you filin grievances for graff writers use the thump out toys keepin both eyes open for them jump out boys i will body motherfuckers if they pump that noise been down since disco 3 become fat boys lemme fall back lemme take a sip at the bar cause vinnie in the hood like i m fixing your car i m the overlord i don t need permission from y all i get a migraine every time i listen to y all listen y all ain t never live in abyss where them hollow tip bullets spit quicker than rittz the nine always concealed i m lettin this bitch breathe your body gonna be mistaken for swiss cheese the front and the back what you want where you at when my killers with the pistol grip pump on your lap where the blunt where the gat where the funk where the strap when my killers with the pistol grip pump on your lap this another hailstorm point blank mail bomb the ambulance take you away and not calgon dirt weed in a backpack full of krylon move rock for yards without seein the pylon none of y all could ever be on the level that i m on traveling trajectories with crystals made of ion jeffrey hunter need to find another place to die on i don t know what drugs y all muhfuckers high on whoever told you you should do it gave you bad advice i ma put a few in you then blast you in the afterlife you ain t even half as nice bloodier than passion christ you want a body give me a pen a bottle and glass of ice i ma do it my way fish and edamame chase a very fine glass of wine with a latt my music age well like it s related to sad vinnie put a few shots into ya like bombay the front and the back what you want where you at when my killers with the pistol grip pump on your lap where the blunt where the gat where the funk where the strap when my killers with the pistol grip pump on your lap1