All i hear is gun shots. can i touch something?
what the blood claat! niggaz want tical, make it happen.
you know my fuckinand' style, fuck the rappinand',
we can take it back to eighty-five if you wanna start actinand' like you live
itand's all good. iand'm rollinand' with my clique,
owls, packwoods and phillies, smokinand' sess blunts, mixed with illy
got me bustinand', now the whole world looks dusted,
iand'm in the area with the skill that never rusted.
for real, nigga, touch it and you burn, when will motherfuckers learn
what be spreadinand' like a germ? ha ha, itand's meth, word.
i be that early bird that got the worm and if you check it
iand'm on point, like a fax machine you get the message.
it be no question and them bust the second guessinand's,
keep your thoughts on your lessons. what the blood claat!
to tell the truth, you donand't amaze me. killa hill project,
a star trek phaser couldnand't phase me. what,
check the raderuckus fuck this,
smoke a dutchmaster, have and'em screaminand' for the duchess
yeah, i gotta have it, so i strive to stick my piece
if i donand't do it for mydelf, iand'm a do it for kase,
and'cause thatand's my peoples, iand'm giving you injections that be lethal
weapon, when niggaz start the half steppinand',
then i get evil. but donand't let that negative vibe right there
mislead you, iand'm humble, a fucking killer bee,
far from bumble. i sting you bzt and i bring you
thirty-six chambers of head banger, bitch,
why i deal with? i think the mic is on the fritz.
faggot soundmen! they be sabotaginand' shit!
look up in the sky, itand's a bird, itand's a plane...
methical, let the whole world know my fuckinand' name.
what the blood claat!