Roll Up Your Sleeves

For next to nothing your soul could be mine

Now that I've got your attention, look you dead in the eyes

If you're gonna make a move, better be quick

Cause the last muthafucka stuttered and got clipped

I stick and move like a dog in the night

Who prows but won't growl before I'm gon' bite

Street lamps light the way as I stray

Past the corner liquor store and the penny arcade

Juiced on Benny's and hard lemonade

I boot so many sweets I've got tooth decay

Who say that Mickey can't rock your wife

Been up for two days straight and three nights

I wear my Lee's tight and tapered at the bottom

I bought 'em at the swap meet in Spanish Harlem

So if you got a problem you know where I'm at

Lurking in the garden with snakes and gutter rats

At the end of the eve, we roll up our sleeves

Mess with Miss Thing and I'mma have to swing

So don't make nothing more difficult

Blood starts gushing when I kick your skull

At the end of the eve, we roll up our sleeves

Mess with Miss Thing and I'mma have to swing

So don't make nothing more difficult

Blood starts gushing when I kick your skull

With eyes on the back of my head after dark

I'm just a lone grifter on the lookout for a mark

I've got angles that'll tangle masterminds with heart

Fuck it, I'll even run a bum for his shopping cart

When I was young my father, rest in peace

Taught me how to pick a pocket and copy car keys

As a little boy I'd hop through chimneys

Skilled at the art of making enemies

So if you got beef, better have good luck

Because even if you knock me down, I'll get up

And if you don't kill me, I'mma slice your guts

With a straight edge razor, riddled with rust

Bloodlust takes me over when I close my eyes

And look back beneath jet black skies

My time here may be short or long

So when I rhyme here I'mma light this song

At the end of the eve, we roll up our sleeves

Mess with Miss Thing and I'mma have to swing

So don't make nothing more difficult

Blood starts gushing when I kick your skull

At the end of the eve, we roll up our sleeves

Mess with Miss Thing and I'mma have to swing

So don't make nothing more difficult

Blood starts gushing when I kick your skull

What you looking at punk?

You don't know me from Adam

And you had the nerve to step on my Chucks? Fuck that

I wasn't brought up to turn the other cheek

I'll break your mother's back just for touching me

I crush MCs with lines that blind and mute

Strangling triangles, spheres, and cubes

The Bayou bleeder throwing jabs at slabs of meat

That hang on hooks and straight stink

Gold plated gloves that love to dance

With chumps that bump me as they walk on past

Avalon don't care none for brats

'Less they cook and clean and wipe my ass

At the end of the eve, we roll up our sleeves

Mess with Miss Thing and I'mma have to swing

So don't make nothing more difficult

Blood starts gushing when I kick your skull

At the end of the eve, we roll up our sleeves

Mess with Miss Thing and I'mma have to swing

So don't make nothing more difficult

Blood starts gushing when I kick your skull

My attitude is all fucked up and real shitty

Crazy ill, mad rowdy

My attitude is all fucked up and real shitty

Crazy ill, mad rowdy

My attitude is all fucked up and real shitty

Crazy ill, mad rowdy

My attitude is all fucked up and real shitty

Crazy ill, mad rowdy