[Intro: RICKY]
Got rhymes like a knife that I slide in the beat
You can hear it from the Polks when I ride in the street
Turning rappers to toe jam that hide in defeat
And most died when my pen collide with the sheet

[Verse 1: RICKY]
I'm the punishment of God on some "Blood & Bone" shit
Feeling in touch with my surroundings on some mud and stone shit
And I'm raising cain
Till my day's insane
And you can see the blood boil through my blazin' veins
Let's get it crackin'
I'm kiling like a beast of the sea
Busting rhymes from in the west to where the easterners be
I'll tell your bitch to put her dry mouthpiece to the D
'Cuz resurrecting bitches' pussies is like Easter to me
I'm in the slab
And I'm cruising down the west of the ave
Looking round tryna find a couple bitches to grab
Ya boi's ugly as fuck, but I'm fresh out the lab
So I'm feeling bout as confident as I ever have
I'll put a crack in your spleen
'Cuz of the lack of the CREAM
And money ain't the root of evil bitch, I swear that it's the lack of it
So when I brandish this gun, you're safe if you move back a bit
Or just move back a lot
Because I'll smite you with the might of Mr. Motherfucking Kakarot
Kamehameha's make them blow up like final form Cell
Bitch I used to be dead, but I got kicked out of Hell
I hit the devil in the face so hard that he fell
Sodomized him with his horns and left the demons in awe
Then went to Heaven and attacked every angel I saw
I need a bitch with the complexion of a staircase
To rub that ass down on the left side of my bare face
And for any underground rapper thinking they can wreck mine
I got an immortal technique, a fucking TEC-9
And when this TEC speak, I'll leave a check sign
Right on a hit list, but if the shit miss, consider your head, your shoulders, and your fucking neck mine
All I got to do is have a check signed
It's killers at your door with guns that'll dissect minds
Just to teach you stupid motherfuckers to respect lines
That I spit, that's right I said lines
And not bars cuz my shit's dope as the shit a fed finds
When they raid a drug lord big enough to make headlines
In the US, so you best not get it twisted like Red Vines
Sal's creeping with a knife for necks around bedtime
The only fucking haters that we like are the dead kind
Yo, this is the bad time - boomerang, bring it all back
Flashback, live and prosper, eat well and get fat
I was Pop Dula, popular to the masses
I miss the E-Classes, rocking game with def glasses
Rock bottom struck and threw my world off its axis
Boomerang - plan to come back like Bronx rap
Storm like the Redcoats through anything in my path
First you shine like sterling, then you broke like brick in Berlin

[Outro: Crusty Barragan]
Yeah Crusty Barragan here in this ice rink doing figure eights warming up for your momma's asshole
Fuck, I'm in this McDonald parking lot in flip flops, Steve Martin
Rick Ross put on a T-shirt before somebody comes around and tit-fucks your ass
Fuck stop the beat I think I just pissed myself