(*whispered*) Strike the match   Flame-on motherfuckers      My gun, I aim lower   My words is a flame thrower   Watch me end yall with somthing,    that'll make your skin crawl   Im only yae' tall, kay y'all? But I lay down law   And I lay down y'all, so y'all better praise(a) the lord   No room to breath. Knowin shh   And the shit I spit be red and orange   And yall going to have to call it in like bomb threats   Cuz I'm fire but, when I wet yall your gonna be drenched   Laid up with ten, cause when I pull it out   I pull in shouts like BLOW!   Damn that shit was loud! See the crowd?   They all seek cover when they see that black rubber   Because this cat here, got no sisters or no brothers   It was one alone   Covered with shellack ready to die black   Lets talk about guns, and how y'all don't bust none   Thease niggas here, y'all doing lest busting lot of ducking   Maybe a lot of fucking, cause all y'all bust is nuts   Just give me room, nobody move, or yall gonna hear the boom      If yall can get it on, then we can get it on   We all can get it on... (x3)   FLAME-ON MUTHERFUCKERS(x2)      Ya niggaz packin gats and stones, frontin on your man's phone   Ya niggaz missed the ride, cause this nigga make ya moan   Cause when I pull out its like AIDS, I make sure its full blown   And before the grief (kiss kiss), kiss him on both cheeks   Let him think theres peace   And give him somthing to remember   Corpse stiff, hands cold, and body temperature December   Sneakers off, closed casket, blew his cheek off   By the way be careful who you speak of   Cuz I by the wall in the back, guaranteed and all that   While y'all in all black   When I leave the place, drop the reef, in his moms lap   Motherfuckers... soon as y'all think your beef is sweet   I'm gonna lay in the streets    and let y'all niggaz throw quarters on me   Can you spare change for your life?   Change for what? Thats when I pop up   With somthing long, and put somthing in his ass like a thong   I dont know what you thought   I'm gonna do you like I do a Newport   In sec-onds kid, smoke it to Brownsville and step on it      Hook      I'm straigh housing shit   Yeah, ya niggas is ballers   But I'm the nigga bouncin' it   if Ruff Ryders is announcing it   Ya know we get down for it, want every ounce of it   I don't care if it's counterfeit, since this is music   how we sound with it?   Dont forget, we bust rhymes for it   skip town for it, get under the ground for it   So nigga, dont ignore it   Unless your ass is deaf   this is gonna be your last breath   Your last S. and S. check   with your hands crossed over your chest   I dont give a fuck   what ever I gotta take care, I get it done   If its money, I owe nobody   Except a few hot ones   And if your 18 and under, this here's your last test   And I'm gonna teach you in the class    with the past tense, lil bastards   C is for class or for casket. So get your books up   And if your doe is low, that C better mean for Cook Up   Dont tell me that you shook up   You know I keep my stacks tall   So that you gotta look up, and maybe we can hook up   But you know what? Then you woke up   Some body smoked you smoke up   You know what that mean   You broke, and you 'bout to get broke up      Hook (out)