Untitled Song

Gun busting, to one dozen,

rappers and batards lungs punctured,

these motherfucking punk running

Shot left his thoughts in the air—

now this fucker dumb founded!

Gun so long I gotta lift slow like a strip pole!

Bullets playing tag off his ribs like a pitch fork

Cock the piece, drop a freak, left his tone monotone

Mockery? Nah, it a monologue in monotone,

I creep through, beam blue, desert eagle lethal,

I ain’t gotta see you, the scope’ll read you like it’s Hebrew!

I seize crews, squeeze tools, let the Nina eat you,

More bodies in the trunk than a Kia Regal

This ain't a game, but the TEC do numbers like Madden stats,

And turn a goon into a ghost like a Snap chat app!