W.M.D.

[Verse 1: Sean Price]

Yo, two-two-two, five thirty-two, thirty-eight

Four-four-four, five, increase the murder rate

Great, shit can vertebrae, fuck up your backbone

Snatch ya backpack, nigga, fuck up your wack poems

You can't rap, slap his natch with the black chrome

This whipping was a warning, so take your ass back home

Nigga, see I pop shit with the same kinda guns that T.I. got knocked with

Extra clip carrier, quick to click burry ya

Both talk tough, but bitch, I'mma bit scarier

Uh, Rambo guns, Commando guns

Catch you at the beach, will heat up your sandals, son

Fuck with a vet, best believe you fuck with the best

Put a slug in the revolver that'll fuck up your flesh

Put a slug in the revolver and play Russian Roulette

Fuck it, I try, I do it, fuck if you die

Ruck, is the, luckiest fucker alive

I went from nothing to something a couple of times

[Verse 2: Tek]

I got a gun with a nozzle pump, cock back, we dump

Lift ya, who said white men can't jump

I know, dead men talk cuz niggas get caught

But if ya, body a juror then a killa gon' talk

Do ya biddy bop to the block, goodbye to your tail

Shitty city cops, 50 shots, I am Sean Bell

Semi auto four, leave your head looking real gory

Be a ghost before Halloween, that's true story

That I blink like a transporter moving your order

Quarterback spiral like bullets hit your aorta

We ain't here to warn 'em, bring the water trigger, we squeezin'

Twenty minute shootouts, clip empty we leaving

When I jump in the porsche, hop in the charger

Fans can't catch the boy, I'm an artful dodger

You know who in charge, get your whole team washed

Then go in and buy guns with the money from these bars

[Verse 3: Steele]

Yeah, the flow rapper, forties and automatic

Arm tatted, chron' addict, it's on when the God rapping

The dog grabbing, my paws, palming the double action

Pump blasting, punk bastards, slump backwards

Rap mastered, got cash? They all plastic

Since graphics, all of my cons, all savage

Lord of War, Nicholas Cage, sick cannons

Spit talents, til we the last Clik standing

Timbs branded, scuffed up from kicking asses

Bucktown, we shoot first, then ask questions

This is my gun, this is my weapon

This is for fun, this is for sending niggas to heaven

Sing 'em a sermon, I heard somebody needed a reverend

Heard he was telling, the bird, he sent a word to my brethren

Parabellum to the back of your melon

You want the rest? See the news at eleven

[Verse 4: Rock]

It go nine millimeter, mack 10, mack 11, twelve gauge

Have your monkey maggot ass on channel seven

Telling like, they shooting, that just how we making you Duck Down

This go round, what up now? He said, what, now?

You the old mattress bout to get drugged out

Like me, I'm so addictive, I'm the newest drug out

With guns out, ignorant birds, we dumb foul

Run out of shells and you ingrown hairs get plucked out

Get smacked with a cap, I'm Kung Lao

Rock a pocket rocket, put a drop top on Run's house

I ain't talking bout horizons when I say 'sun down'

Son, down! down for the count, it was just for one round

Give me two of those gats that Bruno had

On Pluto now, and only on them who hold gat

Ain't that false advertisement? I should sue those fags

I'm just playing, you know that!

Fuck around these days, these dirty DA's'll do your raps

Not guilty, but I do know gats, think about it like

Seriously... is it true or all raps

When I say I put a hole the size of my boot in your back