you tell me who won
claiming to be a killa wit no gun
on the fuck run feeling the wrath of the son
it's far from being done

go ahead and call the cops
dying wit yo mouth open punk nigga show boating
blinging fake g's bitch please i'll crash yo block
and take yo verbal gloc

tie yo bitch ass
to suge knights electric chair death row shock
power from on top bouncing on yo ma ma so ironic wont stop
i love to be hated

can't comprehend it
this slop those rocs creeping across my post but you ass white
as a ghost magic stick pimp slapping victory toast you boast
on shit you don't understand

on command
infflicting trouble poping you and yo road dawgs bubble these no
where you can go to escape royal rumble a peace where death lives
taken hand