"i'm the verbal-spit smith wesson...
i unload with sick spit the quick wit could split a split-second
bomb with a lit wick expression...
you hear a tick tick then you testin..
my saliva and spit can split thread into fiber and bits
so trust me, i'm as live as it gets
everybody claimin they the best and had the throne
since b.i.g. is gone, if you ask me, they "dead wrong"
my flow is hotter than the flash from the click
when the hammer slaps the bullet on the ass from the clip
you wind up in a room full of my dawgs
i'll have you feeling like a fire hydrant in a room full of dogs
so come, come now, get pissed on, shitted on
tough talk turns to, "can't we all just get along"
you get blazed when the mic's off, shot when it's on
you probably ducked when they laid the gun shot in your song
my gun strrr-utters when it speaks to you, utter shit to repeat to you
nothing the clip, then give a speech to you
me and premier, we kind of the same in ways
we both speak with our hands in dangerous ways
rap now is a circus of clowns
a whole lot of lip from cliques i'd probably rap circles around
i'm the next best to reach a peak formerly known
as the best keep secret, i guess that i just leaked it...
people sleeping on him.
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