What I put down in the sound coil is Crown Royal It's like I dug in the ground, soil, and found oil I'm known to terrorize, paralyze a pair of guys or prepare to rise off the land, sea, air, and skies Snatch his heart, but spare his eyes To show him why I'm great, violate, and I annihilate My punchlines ain't just tossin' jabs, they often grab to put you in a Boston Crab Caution, they say I'm psychosomatic in the attic My automatic stick to my clothes like static -cling on, better kiss the fist while the ring's on On the winning hand, four aces, now a king's drawn What, how you want it, head or gut? Let it cuts from the machete, you're not ready Check, 1-2 and you don't stop For niggas frontin', I get you open till the buttons on your coat pop
Chorus:
It's that fire, I see the smoke rising high up Hit higher, hands to the sky up Spit fire, no, can't deny us, they getting lava Cause it's that fire, I see the smoke rising high up Get 'em, get 'em up, get 'em high up Get a cup, let me see, see you light up, they getting lava Cause it's that...
Verse Two:
Demand the respect, the effects could heat the room Full of fans in the deck, got my hands on the tech-nology It's a little too late for an apology, a style from me got more star quality than astrology L is the name Spit that shit that's so fire, it can dance around hell as a flame Who nicer than me? You ain't worth the price of a tee, in China You a vagina and Tyson to be Fuck, I'm stuck in the spirit form, my brain mirror store 'em Speak my mind, hear it swarm, now lyrics born I write a masterpiece Better than my last release, cooler than a cast of grease Burn a nigga to the ash at least You couldn't get signed into cast, surviving then crash in peace Back the fuck up Get it nigga? Back the fuck up, before you get attacked, smacked, hijacked, and stuck up
Chorus 1X
Verse Three:
I am hot shit, a stand-up nigga, I do not sit SWAT's hitting alerted, they heard I got the spot lit Think deep, how deep? Deeper than a plot get In a novel, with a pen, I tend to boggle Now feel the kiss of death when you spin the bottle Don't have to send a hollow-tip for others in the clip to follow The man with the pen is illing when he's into spilling again, been as healing as penicillin If your body can suck and inhale And blow out, then no doubt, probably not fucking with L In this genre, full of politics, chicks, and ganja Find the one who signed ya, and murk him in his recliner My words could kill a man much more than a kilogram Of coke, once spoke, shit can hit the ceiling fan Cause in the booth I hear the siren calls When I inflame off four entire walls with fireballs