Guess who's back at it...
Curt the best with it...vest and tek fitted...
oh...no...he didn't...duck when he spittin...
when the beat kick in...it leaves ya teeth missin...
I'ma...beast with it...Brick City affiliate...
keep fifty's and twenty's hid...
whats really good...I'm really big...
strap toast like carried infants...
that'll leave niggas ghost like apparitions...
even when I'm super lyrical...I'm raw son...
cutting your broad up...in more chuck...than Brunson...
I gotta thing for young meat...hard beats...and tough gun speech...
that'll leave your fuckin lungs...weak...
just try to run...reach...
and your gonna feel your blood...leak...
from the butter of this young...heat...
body stashed in the gutter where it won't reek...
watch the mother of your son weep...
no other brotha does...me...
stack up like skyscrapers...bag up...and drive blazers...
but I aint talkin bout my Chevy dog...
like X mixed with Viagra...niggas know me very hard...
catch me in a cherry porche...of course its rented...
roll thu your hood real slow to draw attention...
stop...park...hawk...mark...then...off your henchmen...
so...watch how you talkin buisness...
cause when it comes to streatchin a squad...
I'm sumthin like Yoga...when a weapon's involved...
giving your flesh a massage...you don't know shit...
except not to step to the boss...
