Out the Speakers - Panik, Vakill

I roast niggas till they beg me change the subject

I write, arrange and publish

Brains in the street at point blank range in public

When I spit a round, like a semi-auto with a queasy clip

Meeting earl, leaving your back open like a hospital gown

You better bite more than The Lox to beat me

Who you fucking with been nice, since Christ was on a box of Wheaties

Let bitches ass cheeks peeled apart

Got pussy falling from the heavens, don’t know whether to fuck or build an Ark

Dragging his dicks, the antagonist dragon fisted with a .44 mag and a biscuit

With no religious, ethnic or racial exception

Squeezing off on niggas, with a nut busting facial expression

You’re a monopoly house in a volcano vicinity

I ain’t got shit to lose, except unlike you, my anal virginity

Let Juice catch bodies and I’m gonna catch the bitch

My trigger finger got a bad case of crabs now who wanna scratch the itch?