Lyrics
Spare us the shame of being killed by a boy!
Kings must be killed by kings!
Hahahahaa! -- A fine king you'd make!
A king who can't even kill his enemy!
And has to ask others to do it for him!
Even on a battlefield! Hahahahhahaaa! Hahaha!
(Crowds cheer)
No n-no competition to the shit we got here
The real shit, terror to ya ear, kill the fear
Got the Glock, got the Glock, got got the Glock
To ya headpiece, what!
No n-no noo- competition to the shit we got here
The real shit, terror to ya ear, kill the fear
Kill the fear, kill the fear
Got the Glock to ya headpiece, what, what, what
What
I got the blick and the wild gunnin' (?)
Sit the fuck down, it was never about nothin'
Jack Pa's espionage of (allowed dungeon) (?)
Little (Nub Millah) was talkin' about pumpin' (?)
Being a sinner became painful
It's clear revelations that came as a strange angel
My brother is my brother we came from the same cradle
These ain't mink, (bahna) they made from a (gray sable) (?)
I ain't the motherfucker you should box with
We can take it to the guns, homie this a chopstick
Put the mafucker in your mouth like it's a swab stick
Bring the box-cutter in the mafuckin' cockpit
Play (Entiro Roja) till the day break
I can never be a dollar short or a day late
The SIG Sauer P320 is my namesake
The bullet has so much kinetic energy the wave break
No competition to the shit we got here
The real shit, terror to ya ear, kill the fear
Got the Glock, got the Glock to ya headpiece, what
This the reckoning here
This is napalm, that's the smell of death in the air
You want bombaclat war then the weapons appear
I'm the seedy don, squeaky (fry) and mescaline here
The (sooner) of the profit, that's the actual fact
You think talkin' to one-time is a natural act
You see talkin' to one-time that's a vaginal act
I went to Pet Semetary now the animal back
We burnin' sage, we the northern (alapajo)
My heart black homie, yeah it's colder than gazpacho
It's a hail of bullets comin' better get yourself a pancho
Bandana low on my eyes like I'm a chicano
I don't look at homie as a rivalry he a (custy) (?)
He stink like (pachoolie) his entirety is dusty
We put a fatwah on his head like he Rushdie
Me and you is like puttin' a shark against a guppy
No competition to the shit we got here
The real shit, terror to ya ear, kill the fear
Got the Glock to ya headpiece, what