The Coffin Testo

The four-fifth symphony lift him
It'll spin your head around like a rotisserie chicken
I was born on the Red Sea, [?] vision
We ain't A-Alikes, God, we completely different
How much more proof you need that the boy crazy?
I carry four pounds, like a premature baby
Pussy boy, coming out his mouth, all shady
I will punch him in his fucking teeth, all gravy
I'm liable to take a young boy lunch box
And if it's any resistance, then you gon' get punched off I catch homis, Lord, harder than punk rock
I remeber 'xactly where I was when they slumped Pac
[?], everything, but got cocky
Philly wild with nice hands, but not Rocky
Mami making [?], but it got sloppy
Yous a bitch, [?] when he shot [?]

The left hook startle 'em to end, is a mean [?]
Sublime nature, I am from the sons of the Green Light
I could tell from your eyes, something don't seem right
Hands shake, brittle, so I know you the queen type
It's five-fifty [?], force is absurd
And God told me the pen is the source of the word
How he call himself a rapper, but he awkward with words?
In a city I diddy bop, walk with a bird
Let's be honest, money, you just mediocre at best
And these cop killers gonna put a hole in your chest
I'm Vito [?] throwing [?] at the ref
You like Luke on [?], almost frozen to death
The straight right'll lift his fucking pussy outta shoes With no counters coming back and that's the point I'm trying to prove
You ain't get the fucking point?
That's the point that I don't lose
You can see me muhfucker, I announce you on the news
Yeah