[Intro: Crooked I]
Your boy Crooked I
And this my n***as HORSESHOE GANG
From the school of LYRICAL MURDERERS
What up, Rakim?
You raised some moahfuckin' killas, n***a
Hahahaha, awww
Yeah, H-Gang in the building, n***a, Block Obama
This is how we do
Don't y'all love lyrics?

[Verse 1: Kenny Siegal]
Massive games in my mind, my brains on some arcade shit
Flow's sweet and cold like its on some parfait shit
I’ma monster with a sharp blade in hand, I’ma start chasing
Leatherface, and stalk Jason have his heart racing
Got the flow of the future, yall bars ancient
A rap animal turn cannibal from starvation
I’m hot enough to walk the streets and leave charred pavement
Bars hot enough to torch pages and scorch Satan
My tech’ll spark flames, then my lark in the park take in
Taking you apart, your brains and face part ways
When them things start blazing, I sit in the dark aimin'
Picking off cats like the petals on carnations
We stay hugging ratchets, a rap scallion
And his battalion, running rampant when the sun is absent
Who summon this gumming who want it your corpse to get hung in
My dungeon, that’s my punching bag, if you wanna clap that ___?
[Verse 2: Dice Dinero]
I rap with the Horse Shoe Get-ANG
Enough said we bust laid, one shot from the pumper will replace your leg
With an artificial limb, you fuckin with the crème de la crème
Sporting the all blue dodger brim fitted
Go against the COB, and you can get it -- get it?!
Fuck a beast, we some monsters n***a so get with it
I ghost you n***as, you’ll never find your lost souls
Fucking with COB, put me up in boss mode
I’m on fire, so stop drop and roll
I cock the Glock, pop some shots, and put some holes
In your sternum, yeah-yeah, I’m equipped with the burner
With a flow as cold as a young Ike Turner
I’ma motherfucking problem, not even a mathematician can solve
Even if they use algorithms still not at all
Yeah so make way for this young goon
Tearing shit up like a typhoon from Long Beach to Cancun

[Verse 3: Julius Luciano]
My poisonous poetry’s potent I’m painting this
Picture perfectly, approaching, I’m poking your pancreas
I’m sharp as the point on my pencil
When you rap, I’m disappointed and pissed too, pointing my pistol
Learn to respect me, I murk with music
Melodic massacre, makes a murderous medley
Serving with deadly flows, I’m cold
Serving me is hard like the search for the dead sea, scrolls
Foes, try and mimic me, this a killing spree
Red rum rhyming rhythmically
I'm what you would call a thug in a hustle of guns'll put
Slugs in your jugular, clutching a Russian
Revolver, call me Jason like Jadakiss and Game
Difference is, I’m the Jason with the chain-
Saw, I’m raw all yall lames should kiss the game
Goodbye, when the game is spittin flame
[Verse 4: Demetrius Capone]
When I came in the room
I spit flame, I’m the angel of doom
Bitch-made, when I tangle with whom
You rather get raped with a broomstick
I lift your brains to the moon
You'd wish your mother rusty hanger-ed the womb
Fuck yall n***as, the splinter cell, will get ya the ninja stealth way
Can't get rid of this n***a when he grippin the twelve gauge
Try killing yourself, I’m still on your trail
Cause I bought a ticket to hell, being sicker than twelve-play
I’m sicker than pissing on jailbait, so I’m killing any n***a spirit
Before he swimming in hell's lake
Try repenting before you’re sentenced to hell
I’ma hit ya with shells right before he get to pearl gates
I catch n***as at the motherfucking crossroad
Holy ghost you, blowing a hole in you lost souls
They all ghosts, can't hide n***a
I’m still in your afterlife, I graverob n***as