Real ill shit (second vers) I can't make hits without biting/ just a one hit wonda'/I shit without wiping/ and I'm smuggling ganja/I've got weed that'll take ya straight to da phiend wonderland/Damn! That was my last pair of clean under where/Smoka's blazing/ holdin' paper/ man I pay with rizzla/Leaving da hole place a mess just like my baby sista/I be toaking afgan/ getting stoned like Aslan/When it comes to pills I'm popping mow' then Pacman/Don't think that I'm depressed over some broken marrige/I swipe drugs at night clubs with Nicole and Paris/Ya girl ain't faking orgasm's shes praing for fuck's sake/I mothafuck them rapists and tie their wrists with duck tape/Make me paint yall da picture, ya getting sprayed like graff writers/That can't aim straight coz their ass got arthritus/I'm rocking only by talking, I'm hip and hopping/Put my Johnsson in ya children's christmas stockings/By: Psyclone of da Verbal Terraristz (VT)
hot shit
And there's plenty mow where that came from...