the top was short like leprechauns
As I crush so- called willies,
Get in that ass, quick fast, like ramadan
Its that rap phenomenon Don- Dadda,
You got ta, call me, Francis M.H. White
In tank- light totes, tote iron
Was told in shootouts, stay low,
Keep extra clips for ex tra shit
on that cat with that grip on rap
Ain't no telling where I may be
May see me in D.C. at Howard
With my man Capone, dumbing, fucking
You should know my steelo
Went from ten G's for blow
To orgies with hoes I never seen before
So, Jesus, get off the Notorious
Penis, before I squeeze and bust
If the beef between us, we can settle it
With the chrome and metal shit
I make it hot, like a kettle get
You're delicate, you better get,
I got more rides than Great Adventure
Biggie, "How are you gonna do it?"
On ya mark, get set, when I spark, ya wet
when ya marked with death
Should I start your breath should I let you die
In fear you start to cry, ask why
don't front the word sick
You cursed it, but rehearsed it
I drop unexpectedly like bird shit
You herbs get, stuck quickly for
Don't forget the publishing,
I punish em, I'm done with them
Son, I'm surprised you run with them
I think they got cum in them,
cause they, nothing but dicks
Trying to blow up like nitro
Mad I smoke hydro rock diamonds,
Take trips to Cairo, laying with yo bitch
I know you praying you was rich,
This goes out for those that
Disrespectful views on the King of NY
Now ya Braille in it, stash that light shit,
Conscience of ya nonsense
Sold more powder than Johnson
Tote steel like Bronson, vigilante
Ain't no other king in this
One shot, they disappearing
MC's used to be on cruddy shit
Now they on some money shit,
They light weight, fragilly, my nine milly
that's why my money never funny
And you still recouping, stupid