I can smell it when i go outside
I'll fuck you after i strike
I welcome with my handsand the red sun sinks at last
Strike your ass with liquid nitro gas, light the hash,
Nigga still tired so i'm yawnin, and now i'm gone
Strike you as i brought in a thunderstorm
Shy beau's beaux strike n scatter, dozen demure
Nigga had the fucking nerve to call me immature
Always found common ground when i was the one they could strike...
I leave a hater like he lost a watermelon fight
You could strike lottery, with a hammer harder than metal pottery
And a nose full of chowder, he's choppin' up all the doubters see
My rhymes strike like acid chemicals,
Ho, slut, no love, turn beef to cold cuts
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