The Imperialistic Freestyle

(álbum: Street Villains, Vol. 2 - 2005)

It be the imperialistic, capitalistic, sadistic
Clapping you bitches with a Calico
Hundred round clip shit
A hundred rounds In the ring kid, bring it, death rap I sing it
Like Bing Crosby, rockin bling
Shout to those locked in the bing
I rep it in a town like a mayor, I might slay ya'
Heavy metal down
You gonna make me flip out, you better settle down
Sit down Ubu good dog I'll feed you puppy chow
You're not ready for combat with real crews
That got grudges, bones to pick, and mad shit to prove
My clique a sickos attack like sickle-cell anemia
Stick a sickle in back of the neck of an enemy
That's scheming on ya
I'm sick a you sorry mothafuckas sleeping
I'm sorry, I gotta murder you
Your clique is a male sorority
You're the shemale authority, you'll die!
You'll get slapped in ya face like your father did
Marty McFly!
Stop fronting I seen you rocking coke bottle bifocals
In high school looking like Urkel, you might fool others
But not me, my x-ray vision
Peeps your facade like the Mossad
During an intelligence mission
It's fu-tile battlin the brutal my new style is crucial
Like crucifixions on Crom, sound the bugle
Another mausoleum filled, you better pause
Chill nukka, you get hit in the grill with metal claws
Ancient weapons
You're covered in blood red gauze
Posted up in the E-R
Beating you down in public is what we call good P-R
On your best day you couldn't see me par
We'll make a spectacle out of you, nothing technical
Just a quick snuffin simple n' effective's acceptable
Unpredictable, impeccable, despicable
Respectable, but like a Pitbull when I check a fool
Y' BITCH [*echo*]