(Scratching)
From the top (x6)
(Scratching)
Shut up! (x8)
I'm about to...
(Scratching) Wasn't that fun? Let's try something else
Forty-five caliber killer, but out of the Phila-
-dela thriller show you brothers how you not a guerilla
Smooth talkin', fully automatic weapon concealer
Taste thriller, great fillers, hit 'em with the bounce filler
Filthy stinkin', standin' on solid ground and still be sinkin'
Submergin' in the Parks and still be Linkin
Pluck beef when it starts, but fuck your thinkin'
It's not a mirage
I rip the motherfuckin' track up from out the garage
Where I'm hip to the duck, but it's hard to dodge
In the back of that spine where my darts is lodged
Thought flippin' straight up, rippin' apart your squad
X-Ecutioner style, that cuts and blends
Like a syringe, we bangin' you in each of your limbs
See me comin' through your party hard, without no bodyguard
Smokin' somethin', stompin' on each of your Timbs
I'm the B to the L, the A, the C-King (uh huh..)
And when it comes to plannin' the Thought, keep thinkin' that
(Scratching)
Shut up! (x8)
