You can sound the alarm You can call out your guards You can fence in your yard You can pull all the cards But I wont back down Oh no I wont back
with a reward He'll stab you with a sword don't be fooled by his charm He's probably armed with intent to do bodily harm Ring the alarm, look for a man
my breed can hunt Seen enough mayhem, step into the A.M Weapons of contention for any given occasion I attack with Battleaxe Warriors from the armory Some of us kill
sticking out from under ya foot? Move, turn ya head around, nigga, you better not look Stacks, you hiding from Tone? I'll shake, rattle ya bones You killed
fact, I should've put you back, relaxed on the stones And copped the two-thousand leather in snow cones A bowl of milk almost killed you, ak, you almost
Amity Scars upon the grill of your friends family Workers utilized and brutalized Informats scrutinized and crucified Wakes firebombed, functions shot up The jakes was not alarmed
rusty Jason Dumped the smoldering corpse in a dumpster truck of garbage In this mad man hell he laid in Logical was hatred Some replacement killer came
strolled back home with a grin on my grill I think that since this is a dream I might as well get ill I walked in the house, the Big Bad Fresh Prince But Freddy killed
the deal go through If not, here's 12 shots, we know how you do Please make your killings clean, slugs up in between They eyes, like 'True Lies', kill
a car theif These niggas mad cause it's my party And my Benz is wide-bodied Despise me, like the feds despise Godi I kill for a hobby and latenly
Come on and get some of our gun craps I'll straighten out the nigga now When I snap, make your chest cavity collapse When I glide the entire map With the frequent four alarm
I'll be down in a minute, I'm drinkin' a Snapple A Snapple? Bitch I got bombs and shit Grenades and razor blades and alarms and shit You better come
bitch ya, I'll fix ya, raise a rapture ripped ya scripture I'll mac a meal infact until I stack the bills ta rack the skills ta get a track ta kill them
suggest you bounce bitch I got AR-15's to come up in yo' house with To tell yo' woman she look good in them killer jeans Think it's butter I wanna cut
a nigga rocking voodoo deep Lord forgive me, I know not a better way And pop has tried to stick me Damn I need some better ye Ring the alarm, tell '
hear us if ya comin' around It's best ya get the right kind of disk to listen to me I want means and tina marie It's best you get a built in alarm 'cause
like that, the way I call your name When I tell you shit is real you know it ain't a game No pretending, always breakin' up and mending We gon' kill
rappers with titles after twelve Hit a bell that's what I'll feed on! Microphone Don, walkin flesh, talkin bomb Bringin harm, to the calm, and, them be alarmed