John Cena
Sundullah Spitbullz
[Canibus]

Spitbullz off the muzzle, airborne off the turnbuckle
To touch you, tear bones off the muscle
Stomp you, try to get this swamp monster off you
The awful scent of bloody flesh 'n barnacles haunt you
Couldn't kill me with a fifty cal round
A three hundred fifty pound hound with a canine growl
Scan the road from a mud hole like Rambo
The chain-fed ammo open you up like manholes
I'm Uncle Sambo in a Ku Klux Klan robe
Blackface, pink lips, Arctic coloured camo
Spitbullz, whore!
Let me get a fix on this fool
I drool when it's time to get tool
Six wolves minimum, interrogate before killin' 'em
Waterboard torture below zero temperature
Hot bars generate sparks, bitch, I told you don't talk
Fibrillate your heart 'til you fart
On your feet, drag you outside, march
Walk 'til your feet parched and your BDU bottoms starched
Feed you pork soaked in sodium salt
Big weapons spark like tuning forks in the dark
Won't tell you again: Do not talk
When we walk, do not gawk at the corpse laying on the sidewalk
Handcuffed behind back, flesh decomposed and cracked
Heads are detached from the respiratory tracts
Crossbow buttstock across the throat
Pardon the approach, I thought you was walking too slow
No one who is able to hear will care
Those with compassionate care cannot conquer fear
The final battle won't be in space but right here
Thirty-two thousand, four hundred Maidenhead squares
Sharpshooter assault, Mankind versus The Land Sharks
You don't want none of the Spitbullz