You smell the ounce, i ain't even in ya house yet
My written's imprinted in the hidden book of the dead
Now you finna cut your hair, you waiting to excel
Instead of the asylum i was somewhere in hell
I have so much to say
In the back trunk, half dead ya lay
If you still gon' be on some crooked-ass nigga shit
The dead men in the sewage 'n burned in lighter fluid,
And please never disrespect my set
Kill in a movie sketch pay up or ya dead
In this rap game you must be dead,
I get mine and i bounce like a bad check
Then some lady named billie holiday
In the back trunk, half dead ya lay
But it's buried in the sand somewhere and you let it stay there instead
Bet you thirty dollars you find her like cartman found kenny, dead
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