Coroner music, GS point, OJ Simpson
Coroners must love my shit for certain
I keep 'em working
'Cause your boy got pull like a diesel person
In this rap tug of war, I yank the cord
And watch 'em all fall down
My rapport is lethal, no equal
No survivors, no sequel
None compare, they crumble when the monster stares
I see through you, my heat do to you what they should've did
Molotov cocktails tossed in your crib
Death to the fake is the only way to live
Mama said give, so far this charity
Guns at your temple for a moment of clarity
There's no comparing me, please
I'd rather be a corpse than compared to these wack MCs
Make a list, whoever your dudes take
Never confuse great, I do 'em in like tube steak
And digest 'em, 7 Mile section
Vest for protection, it's no correction
Guilty, I got next
And I red dot the chest of these so-called hot prospects
I got tecs and techniques unknown to those
That miss me center stage when I stole the show
Detroit the city you supposed to know already
Respect my home or dress heavy
Deadly in the jungle with a machete
Chopping through vines, organized crime
Solar eclipses couldn't stop my shine
Tryna sabotage when I jot my rhymes
In a stone tablet, I use hammer and nails
Popping aspirin, the rap game's bammer as hell
I stay irie, they wanna do me in like Kwame
So I killed Patrick and still practice
And keep it ghetto, I pull more strings than Geppetto
And laugh while the stray shots echo
And wake up neighbors
What I tote's ridiculous, I spit black licorice flavor
How you a player? They put you on waivers
Black acid when I drop on paper
OJ Simpson, ode to the ghetto, the remixes
Evil like three sixes
I'm gonna break your goddamn neck
See, I hope the whole world turn against you and fall down at my feet
See, I hope the sun quit shining on you
And life be in a tub of wreck
Hope you fall through the loops of your own ass
And break your motherfucking neck
