verse won

My function is the conjunction to destruction
No instructions to the lovely art of head lumping
hands crossed before the stand-off
your bailing to be the escapee
running safely to safety it's war lately
so pay your late-fee or get laid flat
twist em up braids, plats...
heart thumping danger like a croc attack
the i.r.s. couldn't stop my stacks
jot down the stats then pop off a cap
i don't even know where i'm at
in the middle of a war-zone
from delaware to denmark my ruthless men spark
if i run-out of bars chill then regain my thoughts
women treat me like they never had a heart
but i can't be broken i'm married to kush smoking
cats become my cattle after the roping
getting busy sign on the hotel door when me and my dime eloping

verse two

no claim to fame for me mine the same as every other ghetto hustlers story
so pass the torch i put the blood in the sports
and distort the fort and every resort
flows off all sorts i can't spit just one
female emcee's who want to battle better stick to celibacy son
O.c. knows i'm the chosen one
so you better ask who packs a better blast
in the house of pain i ever-last
laying in a bed of cash to dead the mass
it's a mash-up you can't pass up
a cop killer so many bodies i can't count
every line dosen't flow still a poetical pro
i'm nastier than a hoe eating a dirty ass-hole
all these rectum crews get schooled
and once we face-off you'll be crippled no way to walk in my shoes