I rhyme at school/ i rhyme in tha club
I got mo cheese than a rat/
(want some)
My game so deep/
Like 2, 000 sumthin leagues/
Up under tha sea/ but i be on tha streets/
Hustlin wit speed/ last of a dyin breed/
Niggaz know my magic / i got tricks up my sleeve/
Look at how i spit/ look at how i flow/
Bet if i fucked up/ that i wouldn't hit tha floe/
Case ya'll ain't know/
I ride wit guns n clips/
N got some wise words/ that'll be told like myths/
Givin tha game whiffs/
On they shirt it might stain/
My words overflowin, like you caught in heavy rain/
Tempo goes/ cornas covered up in snow/
Bitch niggaz don't know how it work from tha stove/
Cop it cook it chop it/
What ya'll wanna do/
This that hot shit that ya'll need ta tune to/
What ya'll wanna do/ what ya'll gotta say/
(fuck that screw down hea, okay)
How you niggaz actin/ how you niggaz roll/
(fuck that nigga/ southside still on) 2x
I'm lettin glocks dispearse/
Ta some niggaz i am tha worse/
This tha second verse/
Like tuts tomb i'll leave ya cursed/
Rock niggaz like babys they be fast asleep/
I got heat/ specially knowin that tha talk is cheap/
But mine cost a whole lot/
Of them dollaz n riches/
I keep a hot glock leavin victims wit stitches/
They in obituaries identified by they pictures/
Can't be no dj if he ain't scratchin wit mixers/
My rhymes cappable of bein bought by tha latest/
My clique is on tha verge of bein considered tha greatest/
We like ta show off so them hatas gon hate us/
While sippin stonewall/ in tha club i git lazy/
Gittin picked up/ bankers we leavin sticked up/
Stats leave ya ripped up/
Talk shit then step up/
Niggaz betta rep
(what) they claim/
I'm a head of tha game /
Cuz they call me beretta cuz i'm sprayin ya brain/
Lil Blake a.k.a Beretta High Point, NC 27260
Writer(s): Lavell Crump, Wesley Eric Weston, Warren Watford
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