live and direct from the one-six-ooh
and there's about to be one left
i know you know it'son kid
who lit that shit it was i the chinky-eye
cheeba-hawk from new york
that they could walk a dog but they caught
cause i'm a sandwich short
cause you ain't equipped with the sickening
blowing up the spot like ballistic
i be comin through like the four-nine-three-eleven
a bad motherfucking buddah monk
hit the pussycat for the pain
nobody move run your garments
terrible like a champion sweat
with all the dangerous diseases
sniffling sneezing coughing aching stuffy head fever
i think it's bout time that you suffer
bobbin on my nob like an all day sucker
i blow your fuckin ass to death
i'm goin all out kid no turnbacks
get smoked and that's that
sixteen shots to your mug
i go to war in a conrete jungle
time for jet-black tim boot
hit em with the nine troop
cha-cha-blow in the session
bloodshot in that direction
'tack you like chess moves best move
'tack the boards like chess moves best move
comin at your motherfuckin crew
with some quick high rae stay fly
now you're a slave with the boots that paved the way