51 Lines

I've got so high up, that for five bucks, I can getcha knifed up,

Or I can find shooters that'll ride up and get your life hushed!

Bullet-lawyers talk to your dread thoughts, you’re bread soft,

Just another file in a folder that the feds got!

Put your memory on a desktop, zipped up with the red dots,

It goes: Head shot... Dead op. Read plots... Lead drops!

Splitcha down the middle like a symptom in a med doc,

You got smoked like a thread pop, watch 'em bleed 'til the bed stops!

I foresee you permanently asleep, no holding back,

Like fiends with a loaded glass, folding maps in a stolen track!

Caught you slipping, cleaning out your Rover’s back,

Now you’re rolled up and folded in broken halves!

Throw like a shoulder pad, collapsed meat, snapped spleens,

As soon as they blast heat, your soul collapses in cracked scenes!

You got smoked like a soldier’s pack, a colder fact,

And no one in your fam’s ever getting over that!

They’ll clap three to leave you ghosted in your dad’s Jeep,

Half-screamed, let the blood leak out the cracked seats!

Those who oppose me act strapped, but actually,

They haven't tracked the mastery or even loaded a mag properly!

You haven't seen a gat, you just dream of that,

I’m the scheme of the stat, leaving your genes on the mat!

The Aftermath is calculated, the Lead Plot is locked,

I’m the First and the Final... while the Dead Op is dropped

Let a nine bust 'til all the singing stops,

This vessel is vicious, I’m really the King of Pop.

I finna fire it, let the burner sing with a pilot's reach,

You ain't a pilot, but you earn your wings on this silent beach.

I’ve got a silencer on it, the nine no hablo,

The dude'll be messy when he drops like "The Life of Pablo"!

If he takes shots and steps to a boss, I must flashback,

Like an episode of Lost, leave his chest black and his ash back!

That red'll spill like plagues foretold by preachers,

When I put that metal to his grill and give him Paul Wall features

The chrome spark like I’m on a shooting spree,

So many shells eat, I hope he ain't gluten free!

Rubbing me the wrong way, you have a death wish,

I’m not a genie in a bottle, but I’ll leave him breathless!

My punches will have all lost in orbit,

How can a dude with no balls take shots? He ain't Boston Corbett!

I advise don’t front as if you’re way ahead of me,

With the lesser pedigree, I’ll abuse you like ecstasy!

Bust magnums unexpected pregnancy, keeping all grounded is my specialty and my legacy!

Witness and listen, this is a classic beat down, technique renown... like iCloud getting hacked when my techs (texts) leak out!

Get riddled with pistols, bullets are thick bristles,

Until the tip sizzles like you got hit with six missiles!

It’s Ragnarok—I fracture the calendar and the chronology,

A prestigious prime dissolving your hollow topology!

Put so many holes in whoever, whenever the wind blows,

Your spirit is hollow... and all of your ish'll whistle.