My guns are bigger than a baby’s arm With Agent Orange like I was raised in ‘Nam The bullets stay inside your brain like it’s your favourite song I don’t give a fuck who they hitting, they can graze your mom I load the motherfucking clip in they like baby bombs I see it as something beautiful when the metal fly Around the way call me Lucifer, a hell of a guy I’m a motherfucking veteran I’m telling you I’ll Beat his head until there’s red in them I’m letting em die City of brotherly thugs, the home of filthy living You ain’t fucking around with Vinnie, Perce, and Guilty Simpson Unless you wanna be the target that we dump the clip in I do the shit during the day, I like the gun to glisten You a backwards motherfucker you run the prison You think that being locked with males in jail a fun position You should kill yourself rapper and be stuck in the earth To be honest ain’t no rapper that can fuck with you Perce
[Chorus]
For the cats in the hood with a rep Hustle through the AM when most men slept In the waistline where the roscoe’s kept I’m on the edge nigga watch your step
I’m on the edge nigga watch your step We here to eat till there’s no food left In the waistline where the roscoe’s kept I’m on the edge nigga watch your step
[Verse 2]
Fast or slow pace my flow lace tracks this cat’ll throw bass And don’t waste steps and go chase broads to no place Master streets, impress the freaks, pimps dressed for weeks Hoes left to me I guess to cheat and test the sheets Ripping shows from here to Britain yo I’m hitting hoes Skipping those women that spliff and blow are not getting dough First degree murder rhymes disturbing mind like urban lies And ? words signs ? Percee P Amateurs know they can’t stand with the bro ? cause damages most scandalous foes better handle it yo I’m getting that ? till the whip in black Spitting raps, hitting cats for kicking wack lyrics to bitten tracks My interviews say I said a few lines to diminish crews Some men’ll do shit like bending rules Go for the kill I’ll still finish you I’m so hot we gotta close shop, you know not to open your spot While I patrol blocks you getting no rocks
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
Guilty Simpson ? is beyond word descriptions Rough verse inscriptions wrote by cutthroats Smoke in the alley where the young cats bust toast Pinching pennies to pay up his truck note My various techniques compare with Jet Li I’ll chop with an AK and kick when it’s pay day Let’s see how many men must test me Deadly with a pen, let the rest beware Face down in the playground six feet deep In the sandbox when my right hand cocks Back on the hammer you rest in peace I play on wack cats when I bless the beats Like priests in the Vatican he rattletattled and Sprayed up the vehicle your homeboy travelled in Fuck the spots they brag about We kick your front door way in and drag em out