200 - Nems, Spit Gemz

Body ya whole family

Like Chris Benoit

Leave ya pen scarred

Spit rim bars, ghetto memoirs

Bag ya bitch right in front of you

Revoke ya pimp card

You with the centaurs

Send her with her ribs gone

And a Fuck Ya Lyfe tee

That’s the shit we been on

Nigga, my gun been drawn

And these cowards can’t fuck with me

Nemstar with the Gemzstar, buck-fifty

Fuck a stylist

You keep on icing

I’ll slice ya eyelids

Ice picks in ya iris

It’s Coney Island

We up in Cypress

On the roof, laying like snipers

Professional shit, night vision goggles with wipers

One shot outta the barrel fuck up your ciphers

Shout out to the Lyfers

Scumbags and knifers

Live from Rikers

Motherfucker get cut quickly

Nemstar with the Gemzstar, buck sixty

Armed heavily

Guardians guardin' the God’s legacy

My squad stomp you out with more legs than a centipede

Desert Eags, bombed at the bar off of kerosene

Kill yaself, you in the closet like David Carradine

Beretta scream

Couldn’t step to me with the Devil’s team

Energy like it’s ten of me

Crash ya embassy

Kick ya front door wide open

Like, «Yo, remember me?»

Gemzstar with the Nemstar, buck seventy

I’m a hundred percent gutter

A hundred percent tougher

And any one these suckas

I tell 'em, «Go fuck ya mother»

I fell in love with the hustle

You fell in love with a Gunther

Now I got that broad feeding me grapes

That bitch a butler

She got you eating out of her ass

'Cause you a buster

She showed me where you keep ya stash

You shouldn’t trust her

She thought I loved her

But I dubbed her

Now she hate me

Nemstar with the Gemzstar buck eighty

Man, I put that bitch head in a box like Kevin Spacey

I knock you out in front of the cops

And tell 'em, «Chase me»

Ya mom’s is a big bull dyke

They call her Tasty

She used to boost Lo gear for me from outta Macy’s

That’s my crimey

The warrant squad couldn’t find me

They mased the whole team on the block

They coulda blind me

Grimy

Wake you out ya sleep with one ninety

Gemzstar with the Nemstar, buck ninety

Come try me

Punk, the pump right by me

You pump-fakin and fist-pumpin'

Ya suit’s shiny

I’m too slimy

Slide the tentacle in ya wifey

Might be the nicest ever without a pardon

You a target

I’m Sergeant Slaughter to you

Ya little twat, I got callouses harder than you

I’m a storm shadow

You a born rat who needs his jaw shattered

I abhor rappers

I’m the law, lord and master

I’m in the F-150 Raptor

All i do is grind and ride

Merch game homicide

Shittin on your nine to five

Ask me how I’m doin'

I say, «I'm alive»

But I still keep the grip by my side

Just in case the drama rise

Take the stand, I’ma lie

Lookin' in your honors eyes

Jab leave you stunned

Right hook’ll leave you traumatized

Me and Gemz kill niggas line-for-line

With a scholars mind

Flow hotter than the sun shine in Ghana skies

Dollar signs

Lotta crime

Posted by the mama’s fried

Shotties slide out the trenchcoat

Like its Colombine

Gotta grind

When the feds givin' out that Gotti time

Probably find

Bodies lined up

In ya lobby slime

Dust, booze

Mushrooms

Smack ya out ya molly mind

Police comin' around like, «Who done it?»

Back-to-back

Gat-for-gat

Who want it?

Nemstar with the Gemzstar

Two hunnit, nigga

Nigga

Come here, nigga

Ahh, nigga, just cut me!

Hold that, motherfucker

Somebody call the police!