Look, you talking to a God in the flesh
And this batiman something that I gotta address
This ain't a song pa, this is a sonata of death
I will beat this motherfu.cker, I'll pinata his chest
This official, you should talk to the ref
I will put this big black sawed-off to his vest
Have these dum-dums lodged in an officer's chest
Put your body in a box like a login address
Here's a flower, say hello to the dead
Sinatra in '59, that's a hole in the head
The hammer Statue of Liberty, I'm lifting the torch
To me you just another sale, you a Christopher Cross
A rolling stone don't imprison the moss
Azazel is here, exorcism is off
I'm focused on a billy b, you focused on a mill
What you focused on is silly b, I'm focused on the kill

[Chorus]
I'm letting this fu.c.ki.ng yappa off
I'm letting this fu.c.ki.ng yappa off
I'm letting this fu.c.ki.ng yappa off
I'm letting this fu.c.ki.ng whopper off

This motherfuc.ker talking, I guess that he ain't breathing
Sonny LoSpecchio, this pus.sy, he ain't leaving
Energy drained, malnutrition, he ain't eating
Crying with his mouth all bloody, he ain't teething
I'm here homie, in the thick of the fog
It's a war torn city and I'm sick as a dog
I'm in my duffy it's a Christian Lacroix
This a dope fiend lean and it fixed the withdrawal
It's dirty here look like the spot that I got booked in
The type to see my face in the front like he not looking
Boxcutter I will shank a fairy
The Aston Martin is the color of a Frankenberry
Have your whole shi.t tooken with the blicky
A hundred round drum I can cook em in a jiffy
I ain't the one to run from jihad
License to kill, but I ain't got a gun and a badge