It's B.K. kids, count the D.O.A. enforcers When mauve goose come off with G's runnin the horses It's only right I come rhythm and weapons Ghetto slime and Stetsons, militant like Waco, Texas Section shot apart from rhymes that are gun-smart And PJ sparks like a swing cloth, with metal off Cock D and drug pump like the mescaline To my left, is the drug version of Billy Madison Rocks with sling, women diets like Mabel King It's a Medina thing, fat knots or chicken wings Eat my ass if you want somethin Fuck the frontin, cause goons own lyrics like David Ruffin Welfare since birth, speak earth Morbid tales bout cats in jail, hangin rap kings with rusty nails Five bloods, one trash, fallouts and ghetto war Peace to PJ's, Adrian Brothers, take the board