Look, uh, look
All of my niggas gon' ride with it
In the pocket, the rocket like Kellen Mond
Mama told me the power was in the tongue
But it probably ain't powerful as a gun
All of you little cowards get devoured
I'm givin' out flowers to anyone
I ain't been out the house in a minute 'cos I ain't wit' it if the money is miniature
I been mindin' my business
I'm business-minded
I been spendin' some time with the minister
'Cos them niggas spinnin' shit and still sinnin' in the City of God and it's sinister
Try to pray and repent in a synagogue or a mosque a temple, a church
Them brown skin's sentiment niggas hurtin'
And murder's a common courtesy, for certainly
R.I.P. be on the shirt, search lurk, murk, squirt, dirt, first
My nigga doin' four plus eight without a court date
Talked the other day he say he doin' okay
He good, he gainin' weight then got a sharp shank
He made, he say they play they gotta partake
Homie got a heart full of hate and a face full of war paint
Eyes all red, full of rage and it's hard to escape from a dark place
East side niggas from the A, niggas all ages
Tryna sell a pound of the dog cage
All the OGs 'round town was our age
Danger, sex, and drugs
X and R rated
But don't get this shit fucked up, my boy
Ya lucked up once then ya doubled up
I dribble and pass it to the cup and triple-double it
Get to the basket, get the cash and cuddle up
Cover up, bundle up, batter up
Hmm, talk a lot of smack and I could back it up
Shawty wanna shag wanna shack it up
I can put her pussy on the platter like a platypus
Nappy-head nigga, hair natted up
I said Barbara, a nigga tatted up
I won't argue, nigga mad as fuck
'Cos they ain't compatible
I'm finna catapult
But niggas know it's goin'
If I run out of fuel
I won't
What the fuck y'all gon' do if I don't
Run out of fuel
That scares the fuck out of you
For a couple decades
Been lettin' this TEC spray
From that day that I met Dre
So you liable to catch strays
From the second you press play
I suggest they do not test like an essay
'Cos like where my homies out west stay
We can just say
I'm like an R-A-P-E-R
Got so many S-As, S-As
Wait, he didn't just spell the word rapper and leave out a P, did he
R.I.P., rest in peace, Biggie
And Pac, both of y'all should be living
But I ain't tryna beef with him 'cos he might put a hit on me like, Keefe D, get him
And that's the only way you're gonna be killing me
Ain't gonna be on no beat, silly
I beat the beat silly on the grind like teeth gritting
Call me obesity
You think it's over
Wait, it's just beginning
Diss me and it ain't gonna be pretty
Used to be yea tall, then I grew a little each day 'till I became God
Like James Todd, now your arms are too short to BK brawl
Indeed, they small like DJ Paul
My new Benz better than your truck by far
Bitch, suck my balls
You either smoke crack or you're playin' stickball in the street
'Cos you must be on base if you thinkin' you can touch my car
But if the whole world was out to get you
It'd turn you to a powder keg too
Kyle Rittenhouse, spittin' rounds the TEC shoots like
And that ain't no sound effect
Neither was that
SIG Sauer lets loose
I don't condone gun violence at schools
But I can't get these voices out my head
They're putting words in my mouth like alphabet soup
Got the most content on the continent
And constant compliments give me confidence
A cross of common sense and incompetence
I'm cognizant that conflicts are consequence
Of accomplishments accomplished through competition
If Kon coulda conked him into unconsciousness
Though conscious, I conjure this King Kong and just call me Kamikaze
I'm concoctin' this
Nobody's sixteens are touching
These motherfuckin' index fingers fuckin' the nina
Clutchin' the nine millimeter tuckin' the heat
Got the toaster like an English muffin
No, I mean toast to like you drink to somethin'
But it's in a holster
I proceed to bust and
Fuck around and get popped like Halyna Hutchins
Like I'm Alec Baldwin what I mean is buckin' you down
Coup de grâce then right between the fuckin' eyes
Shoot 'em all then if you think you're fuckin' with me
You're gonna suffer the fuckin' repercussions
The reaper's comin' to heathen, I need it from me
I keep replenishing fuel while the beat I'm punishing
I won't
What the fuck y'all gon' do if I don't
Run out of fuel
That scares the fuck out of you
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Com coros (com ou sem vozes na versão KFN) 
Tempo idêntico ao original: 138 BPM
Tonalidade idêntica ao original: Do♯m
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