1st- fiktion; 2nd- diskreet; 3rd- fiktion

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Verse 1:
Im that son of a bi*** - bringing thunder to riffs
Whether a blunt of a spliff, give ya brother a hit
The reason mothers`ll flip - the reason sons`re addicted
The reason guns`re locked up, and the government`s listenin

In on phone calls and this is a roll call to whoever cares
The real heads, who go through beats, like it`s a love affair
And then there`s cats who`d like to act like they ain`t never scared
Moving packs, but when I hit the block? They ain`t never there

It`s not a f***ing game, dogg, this is f***ing flames yall
I pick my brain harder than af ucking chainsaw
Ever could, and if I got a story, I`mma tell it good
While most heads`re afflicted with listening to whatever`s hood

I`ll leave em shamed, brain aching, faces twisted in shock
Veins itching, fingers twitching from everything that I drop
Learn the name, watch it, I`mma get what`s mine
Long as they ain`t locking me up for what I`m saying in my rhymes



Verse 3:
I`m back with it, mad witted, the guy that`s leaving the track stiffest
Killed it, in a second or less, so how was that for quickness
There`s no friends as far as money goes, that`s business
I`ll give ya bi*** what I got, so how is that for sickness?

You never seen a dude, be this crude, gee hes rude
Think Im nasty now then you should see me when I`m eating food
I`ll take the beat, the loop, whatever you should test me with
And spit till ya neck twists so much you`d think that I`m the exorcist

Give ya head a shake, I kick a rhyme like every day
And I ain`t quittin til you see me get so fly I levitate
Elevate the game, watch these featherweights get played
But don`t be mad at me, it`s what the devil made me say

So level out and relax, you think ya hard, but chill
Or the next time ya father sees ya face`ll be on cartoned milk
There`s one thing I can`t be beat at.. you wonder what it is?
It`s bein tied with the kid Dis, as a son of a bi***