Buckingham Palace

Bonecrusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity Long dick your chick like my raps longevity Coca in a glass of ice cubes I got 'em all in bad moods stomping on shoes, I never lose I don't give a fuck about how you're feeling Got the roof on fire, legs to the ceiling Sexual healing, lethal that Marvin Gaye shit Got two black burners that'll melt your facelift Memory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast My clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast We kamikazes, microphone aeronautics We bounce on promoters like West Coast hydraulics Narcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box Right near the mask and the wig of the fake dreadlocks Bumbaclot, box of ammo in the pocket It's all fun and games 'til your eyes hanging out your sockets Watch how you're talking to my goons, it's guerillas Shooters, ruthless, all types of killers Hunger Games shit, they fighting for block space Box cutters, Gemstars, I'll ox your face Ayo, I got a problem with authority Lawyers handle problems accordingly They acting like the pops wasn't calling me I gotta make sure my corner eat Over the stove, pot lean to the side like I'm pouring tea Black man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats Either you a hustler or a thief All I needed was a quarter ki In the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G Sold it hot but I bought it cheap Got it from Miami back to PA like Ross and Meek Huh, buy your bitch for a week She hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee You talk slick but can't afford to beef And we don't call it beef until I'm Sending hits where your daughters be Step on work with foreign sneaks Everything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee Yeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop The nozzle is the nostril of the rostral, pop pop Possibly I'm coming across as hostile You can be double crossed by your Apostle, that's the Pentecostal gospel Black COB flag hanging out the left side Blowing in the atmosphere, the atlas here is Westside Ran up in his stash spot when I heard my connect died His wife is Colombian, got Colombian neck ties I went from roaches in the cereal To flowing the most ferocious in your stereo But culture vultures don't hear me though Hotter than diseases that overdose the venereal While bitches at it with a burning bush like the Moses miracle Why the fuck would I touch a thot with some gonorrhea? I give her the hammer, I call it a blammer, that's onomatopoeia Go look it up, you don't read books enough That's why Crook is up in your mamma mia, I'm a G nigga