Get up! I'm a muthafucka! Wasn't that fun? Let's try something else. 45 caliber killer, but out of the filler De La Villa, show your brothers how you not a guerrilla Smooth talking, fully automatic weapon concealer Taste thriller, break pillars, hit em with the gonzilla Filthy stinking, standing on solid ground and still be sinking Submerging in the boss but still be linking Pluck beef when it starts to blow, you're thinking It's not a mirage, I'm in the mud, I'm the tractor from out the garage With a hip, you can duck, but it's hard to dodge In the back of that spine when my darts is live Don't flip it, straight up ripping apart your squad Executioner style, the cuts and blends Like a syringe, banging you in each of your limbs See me coming through your party hard, without no body guards Smoking something, stomping on each of your tins I'm the B to the L to A to C king And when it come to planning, the thought that you came in Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!