Now load a
Chris out the gate and damn it,
it's hunting season
When you shot,
remember everything happens for a reason
And you never hit it right,
that's why I'm snatching your girl
She calls me
Mr.
Drummer, cause different
strokes rule the world
I got a thirst for knowledge
and an appetite for drama
Or an appetite for destruction
and a thirst for your mama
Either way I keep it going till
that thang is empty
Been nice since
Mike
Tyson punched
Soda
Pop
Fenske
Uh, chicks keep getting stung
cause they all in my swarm
Plus I step in they dorm and
get more tears than
Norm
It's 2004, the world needs more lesbians
And more drunk drivers to
hit drunk pedestrians
They walk around here with two left feet
A warm milk and a cold gout'll
put your ass to sleep
I'm in these streets still no
matter how ugly it seems
Long as I got on my bulletproof
Buddy
Lee jeans
Yeah, it's like that, it's like that, it's like that,
it's like that, it's like that, that, yeah
Motherfucker, woah
Kweli and
Chris, niggas never heard no shit like this
Yeah, I got your chick feelin' moist
You comin' softer than an
ad in the back of the
Village
Voice
You still a toy, the cops still the boys
They tryin' to get me to vote
By sayin' the lesser of two
evils is still a choice
Well, maybe or maybe not
Niggas rhymin' like the guy, 80
Glocks
I'm home watchin', I love the 80's
Picture the ocean with the panoramic view
My flow the iceberg that the
Titanic ran into
Rock like suicide victims to red flannel
While you rhyme sound like it was written
by
Claire
Chenoweth
Used to drive to 50 states
to hear 50 flows
Now every city knows the same songs
It's just a game of pimps and hoes
And the kids think the key to
getting down in the game
Is to copy the hot nigga and
start sounding the same
Now you trying to be heard but
your shout is in vain
Cause you drowned out by the buzz
that's surrounding my name
The mic is something that you
can't grab from me
Shout out to I -20,
some of rhymes is good money
Whether on the whip,
Ahmed and
Durbin
Swerving the streets with
Shaka,
Zulu,
Shana and
Luda
Disturbing the peace, I murder the beat
I'm the nightmare that recur in your sleep
My word is the flesh,
like the wafer that the nun got the converted to eat
They say he the lamb, but
God herded the sheep
A whole flock of followers,
nigga, do you believe?
Yo, what's poppin'?
It's the
Kid
Kane
And my nigga
Ludacris
My homeboy, my dog,
my brother from another mother
And I live quality, and this is how we do it,
man, haters will love it
Yes, who fresher than
I,
D -Dize
Red and black lumberjack, 45 in his
Levi's
Years since knee highs, I watch
Eazy -E rise
Put
LA on nomadic, but they ain't believe
Nas
That was 96 in the
Jeep high
Ty told me they don't believe
you start writing rhymes after
B .I .G died
Eyes puffy, some niggas saying fuck me
Cause I'm from the west,
I'm fresh and I idolize
Dougie
Now
N .Y. hug me, still niggas wanna hate I'm
embraced by 50 states and the west side
love me
Bears toe with
Dre, I'm the nigga to chase
And it been that way since the beef with
Jig and
Mace
And my
Chuck
Taylors, red ones with the fat laces
Ten khakis,
Desert
Eagle with the hollow tip laces
Fresh white tea,
yellow rocks in my necklace
Real gangstas drink
40 ounces for breakfast
I eat fat burgers three times a day,
so fuck you if you don't like the red paint on my sixth tray
I was born in the hood. I be who I
be and me and quali is like
Mac
Chen and
Dub
C
Ludacris 
