Confrontation

B-Sides Volume Two, Fuckers
Where I'm from fools afraid of confrontation
I never bites my tongueston
You've all made due, I make moves in establishments
That you could be a part of for a single Hamilton
I handle it, no effort
Your girl thinks I'm handsome, I'm a "F" her
Young Hue Hefner
Better dress her, yes sir
Honest Racket Sandpeople sweatshirt
I prefer to make somethin' out of nothin'
Fuck a bitch, cum her quick, somethin' outta nuttin'
We pluck 'em right off that cat walk
I keys more birds than NFL mascots
I'm grimy, even rush up out the shower
I reek of pussy and coke powder
It's SP they'll gladly pay to see
I set the records straight like the Anti-Doping Agency

I don't think they ready for what I got
It's embarrassin' comparin' me to what I'm not
And I don't care if this seems arrogant I does my job
Think I'm just a battler then the punchlines stop
I exceed where these rookies fail, a bunch of faggot rappers
Too concerned with how clean each other's pussys smell
Throw me some cheddar homie I got fish to sell
If I can only remember where I put the scale
A pot head to the fullest so drop dead
From hot lead 'cause I hauk phlem like this bullet's a godsend
You should fear us
See there's words and there's good lyrics
That's why the birds to the hood hear us

I send my tsunami sound waves out the Pacific
Over the heads of you infants
Only thinkin' as deep as your speakers get
We blow out minds from the booth
Like Wilkes did to Lincoln
Hittin' you exactly in the back of your crown
Well we'll exact you with a Shaq after the foul
The same topics that you barely touch on we strangle
Over production that's bangin'
Your's is still on first base (the basic)
Tryin' to penetrate you spit the limp hop trucks
Just to get labeled as stars

Integrity and heart are my building blocks
But I won't be goin' through the motions once the thrill is gone
I stay fresh with the motive of killin' off
Portland, slingin' blades like Billy Bob Thornton
And I don't got to use my hands to fight
But I also don't got to pacify
If you're aggressive then I'll brandish knives
Capitalize and leave you in the grass, goodbye
But hey, it's better than waitin' for the hands of time, yeah

Born to die, so even when the casket's closed
I resurrect as the bullet that exits out the back of your throat
And toward the Axe in your skull, throw a tap on your phone
Press "9" to dial out and capture your soul
And I swore thy enemy to a life of forced memory
So you would remember the name
But you can't explain my born identity
In the company which once loved my misery
Is now a missing piece of an unsolved mystery
And now the transmissions leak and unleash the gods to come and get me
They sand-scripted sheets of an anvil and speech
With every getaway I navigate like Transporter
And show up as a blur on your streetlight camcorders