[bad word] 4x) [Lynch & D-Dubb]
I re-fuse to lose
 [bad word] them 22's
I got an AP 10 and a throwaway Tech 9
So you know you can't [bad word] with mine

(Verse 1)
If I was standing in the dark letting my nine spark
Maybe in the morning, [bad word] might feel me yet
It's that nine tech [bad word] that got them [bad word] tore up
As I smash of in a seven deuce cut, you holding your gut
Talking about
What the [bad word] you smoking on?
All dome as the chronics got me gone
 [bad word] it's on
On 'til the [bad word] out
At night I do my murder [bad word] so tight
I'ts the third strike [bad word] 
So now I'm aiming up at your dome
'Bout to make your brain split and hit the Fleetwood Brome
I'm like Richard Chase, mixed with Al Capone
If you want some ripgut [bad word] [bad word] 
Yeah, I got it sewn
So bone to the crib, or get your wig split fool, with the tech chrome
And say the alphabet backwards fast or find you a brand new dome
criminal minded [bad word] that gots tefs in his nine
So head to the East side, cause it's [bad word] time, [bad word] 

 [bad word] 

(Verse 2)
 [bad word]  it's that-Sac of Indo-Killafornia State of mind
Where niggas put their gangster gear on, and bend corners
In a Chev 69
Wire rims
You can't see me
With their neighborhood flags and their black Carthart beenie
I'm like a genie
As I scoop through the hood and get up to no good
And I wish you would
Test my tech, cause [bad word]  it loves to take out necks
And empty backs out, so I max out
350 on the black top
More smoke than chronic smoking
Loced out sherm, classic perm
In my ashtray, there's always a roach
Hit the left lane in case one times approach
I got, 5 warrants and some '89 tags
17 in the clip of my, auto mag
I'ts sad
I gotta watch my back, cause these niggas wanna throw me up in a black
Leather sack, and throw me over their back
But [bad word] that
Why you think I got extended clips
Cuz im so high
Most of the time I just can't miss, [bad word] 

 [bad word]