("Understand that time is running out")

Sick and tired of the 400 years, gotta get "doe" like deers
But ain't goin' out like a (?) named Bambi
The devil don't know who the man be
Come and check it out, I got the fat artillery
Harriet Tubman's spirit instilled in me
Fuck Bill Clinton and Hillary
Buck shots (mug shots)
Tryin' to separate me and my mister
But see I'm a soldier, and I got a sister
Ready to put in work, jerk
Get busy in pants or skirt
Give me a friend and a loaded MAC-10
And all I need is a few good men
You better run to the pad and call 911, hon, the girl's got a gun

("Don't try to step to me, cause I ain't the one")
("Shoot him 'fore he runs, now")

All y'all lookin', I know it seems strange
To see a black girl at the range
Lettin' a (buck buck) with the buck, kick
Lookin' for a hit for a trick
Now I'm wanted in every state
Cause I'm a packer, rapper, jacker, ready for the cracker
But he don't want none, he can't get none
Oh, shit, I think I hit one
Now they're on the run, cause I don't fear
Flip the scrip' and hit like Pam Grier
And you can try to find me K
I'm wicked, (?), and stomp into the ninety tre
It's all about the IBWC
And I'ma have to trouble you, G
You better run to the pad and call 911, hon, the girl's got a gun
("Wa da da dang, wa da da da dang")
My 9 goes bang, punk can you hang?
If you can't, then back up, back up
QE turn the track up
Ratta-tat-tat, the clip is inserted further
More, I murder more
Fools, act like you didn't know, if you did know
Now you're in the mix, six feet below where the grass grow
So, I changed, I got the jackal
Grabbin' on artillery I just can't let go
So, when you see me in your neighborhood
Dial 911, the girl's got a gun