track 1 don't contest me, son / I'll split your wig wide open bust
ya skull so fucked up, you'll need stitches in ya brain matter get
splattered n battered, ya muss be fulla candy, nigga, gettin'
bashed like pin~atas while we sit back, gettin' brain countin'
dough, while you takin' a beatin' like a fucked up, drunk ho n we
just sippin' collatas. ya coke flows n choke blows to the adam's
apple gotcha cracklin' and hagglin' like a bottle'a snapple so
fulla crapple, you're fulla shit, got the dirty-diaper syndrome
always on my ass n fulla shit, yo, don't fuck wit Jerome. Brother
Numsey, come, bring my mirra dammit, I can't see myself, bring that
shit nearuh. whatever way ya look at it, nigga you dealin' with da
baddest shit I eat fried chicken, drink 40's, n flow but if you
call me a whigga', you'll catch an ass whoopin' bro I never claim
to be perfect or know shit that others don't but a word of advice
is from a friend, not a punk ass bitch and don't get it twisted
when you ride on my cuz don't make ME a snitch but I don't fight
homies unless provoked, but you're wise not to shoot da fair ones
wit me drunk or coked cuz ya ass'll be stoked and burned up like a
fire-brand poker, ya fuckin' stupid joker, don't step to these,
real SIN CITY G'Z da mob alwayz got family to handle beef, but a
house divided just bullshits and queefs in the face of danger, you
aint a ranger, you just a lil hobbit, chasin' after bullshit like
it's the fuckin' ring of Gollum like Harlem Nights, I'm a crazy
mutha fucka, I'll blast ya pinky toe off, those that talk mad shit
and scoff but never cough, too coked up to bake so they never get
off, they just talk a lot, but I get a sight on ya spot, yo, ya
fuckin' wit da sniper, ya wanted to talk shit, but you can't afford
to pay the piper... so I'll lay into ya bitch ass like the kung fu
tiger niggaz better realize cuz they know some cliques, they just a
lil' bitch that aint even good at turnin' tricks for they own dope,
they got no hope playin' russian roulette wit a crazy nigga hangin'
from a jump-rope in the attic of hell, you can't handle fire, can't
even handle the smell so come get burned up and I'll squash the
beef, you only know easy, nigga I know da streets
