Of that gangja from the shores of shanghai
Now everybody put your hands up high
Still standin' and in love with my prideheard frivolous beats, we past that
A little more of me through generation of a debate of hatred
You send me beats via email, i'mma send them back in a hearse
Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators
Blast masses a cast to cover crafts.
But it made me the man i am today, thanks
Your yard, full of pieces of lard
Mr. underdog and this is not a bark
I'm hot breeze, snot sneeze
Top of my pile of bodies
Furniture made of the flesh of my foes
Ever wonder exactly where the sun goes
Of the book of your life
Take her back to where i live
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