Swift Kick

You're on some weak shit.

Have you weak at the knees,

if you saw the stack of bodies I caught this week, shit.

I'm God, but written on the wall in blood is that triple six.

You keep on rhyming, writing, writhing on some simple shit.

I'm gon' have ya head popped like a pimple bitch.

Leave you laid out flat on the playground like a little kid.

Bitches, money, drugs, and violence. Keep sowing that seed,

but I'm growing these crops with a different trick.

Keep actin' tough little man, cause I'm slick as rick.