bullas

Speakin of the devil psych, no it's the God, get the shit right
mega trife, and yo I killed you in a past life
on the mic while you was kickin that fast shit
you renegged tried again, and got blasted
half mastered ass style mad ruff task
when I struck I had on Tims and a black mask
Remember that shit? I know you don't remember jack
That night yo I wuz hittin like a spiked bat
and then you thought I was bugged out, and crazy
strapped for nonsense, after me became lazy
yo, nobody budge while I shot slugs
Never shot thugs, I'm runnin with thugs that flood mugs
so grab your eight plus one, start flippin and trippin
niggas is jettin I'm lickin off son





Homicide's illegal and death is the penalty
What justifies the homicide, when he dies?
In his own iniquity it's the
Master of the Mantis Rapture comin at cha
we have an APB on an MC Killa
look like the work of a Masta
evidence indicates that's it's stature
merciless like a terrorist hard to capture
the flow changes like a chameleon
plays like a friend, and stabs you like a dagger
this technique attacks the immune system
the styles like alive paralyzin the victim
you scream, as it enters your bloodstream
erupts your brain from the pain these thoughts contain
movin on a nigga with the speed of a centipede
and injure any motha fuckin' contender.