It's B.K. kids, count the D.O.A. enforcers

When mauve goose come off with G's runnin the horses

It's only right I come rhythm and weapons

Ghetto slime and Stetsons, militant like Waco, Texas

Section shot apart from rhymes that are gun-smart

And PJ sparks like a swing cloth, with metal off

Cock D and drug pump like the mescaline

To my left, is the drug version of Billy Madison

Rocks with sling, women diets like Mabel King

It's a Medina thing, fat knots or chicken wings

Eat my ass if you want somethin

Fuck the frontin, cause goons own lyrics like David Ruffin

Welfare since birth, speak earth

Morbid tales bout cats in jail, hangin rap kings with rusty nails

Five bloods, one trash, fallouts and ghetto war

Peace to PJ's, Adrian Brothers, take the board