[24 Bars: Dagger$]
Top shelf like that cereal box, the people want a cut I can give em' an ox//
X'd out your name, put mine on top, you know what time it is like a Rolex watch//
Situations turn sticky, that's like Scotch, loud turn sticky, that's like Scotch//
Shout out to me, that's mad props, Shout out to me that's mad props//
Just to prove to competition that I'm still on top//
I'm like the little engine that could, that's straight off the block//
In ghetto America, no particular spot, American Muscle car no particular drop//
This where the line drawn, no particular dots//
Protected like before the magnum popped//
I shine like Pledge off the counter tops//
Word as bond like Bron, I hope ya album flop//
Word as bond like Bosh, ya wrist snap a lot//
And ain't talking bout shooting no ball//
You hold no weight at all, when it comes to D weighed on the scale you fraud//
I rebel against the law, ain't gone throw me against no wall//
I gone sick me with no dogs, I'm the sickness and the cure//
This that shit that frustrates, you a fucking fake, I'm a luck of faith//
You take away from the game, I cultivate//
I'm a breath of air, you suffocate//
Revenge is sweet, but how vengeance taste//
I exit to enter Durante', flaming these pussies like gon-orrhea//
Flaming these fuckers, they flambe//
I'm looking like a mime, what the fuck he saying though//
Military mind, no call of duty though//
[24 Bars: Dagger$]
R.I.P. Gene, bless your soul, you in gangster paradise no Coolio//
Fuck Chopper 6, and Metro, not PCS, but the police yes//
This is a protest in the form of a flow//
Nine times out of ten, I got a formal approach//
These sixteen bars on death row//
Don't need bitches in my earlobe, nope//
Talking about relations, no, I ain't got the patience ho//
You aggravating, go masturbate then yo//
I'm 5'7, you might think that's small as shit//
But I look at bigger niggas like David did Goliath//
Military minded, you might think I'm mindless//
A stand up enigma nigga, you just spineless//
Sometimes I rock designers, but nigga I ain't buying//
A bunch of fucking clothes, when my brothers locked in asylums//
We stacking for his bail, cause he got caught with the China//
My bro been ratchet since he was a fucking minor//
A skinny nigga weighing in at 125, that hold more weight than niggas ten times his size//
Your eyes getting big, like they magnified//
You gonna need a translator for this next rhyme//
You fucking with I, no Jose, Pepe, Alejandro, Carlos//
Miguel, Luciano, Pablo, Paco, all them Mexicanos//
Let me tell you something I know, I love to see ya ho smile, that's why she call me MC Donald//
Let me tell you something I know, I'm on the rise, Murder Ma$e high note//
Bumping Jet Life every time I roll, bumping Jet Life every time I roll//
Copyright © 2013 The Genius vs. Ingenious Publishing. All Rights Reserved
