(feat. Poet)

[Scratching]
Circumstances beyond our control

[Poet]
Livin' on the down low and I represent the Shaolin deep
Where crazy bother's known for buckin' a n***a, so don't sleep
?one the ave??? Watch the bodies pile
Ooh child you can't fuck with my bloody murderstyle
I got you on a scope and it's sharper than a knife
Feel the 9-mill rip it through your flesh, taken life
Just another bitchass caught up in my warpath
Cut you right in half, feel the wrath of a bloodbath
Mass destruction, try test my function
With the padamin I kicks the flavor into function conjunction
What's more to prove n***a? Hold op
My hoodyman crew know I got shit sewed up!
One for all and all for one
Some for me and my crew, but n***a you gets none
So check out my steez, I get over like a bear
Hoppin' door and rush hour lookin' out for the coppa
Watch what you do and kid it's over when my Glock pops
And my crew rocks, pack 'em in like a lunchbox
Sorry that your style's mad shitty like a diaper
You're just another victim of the rooftop sniper
[Chorus]
[x4]
Buck buck buck
Yeah I let the lead out
Three-fifty-seven! Boom!
I put his head out

[Poet]
I wanna know, can you feel it?
The Tech-9 rip, because this be the season for catchin' a mac clip
I'm showin' you who's bigger, when I smoke a hell off n***as
Better recognize fool, when my finger's on the trigger
Go for the flow ho, just so you know
Punk n***as like you can't fuck with my flow
The buckshot, one buckshot two
By the time we let off three, there'll be no more you
Because the bulge in my pants ain't just a big dick
Every 4th of July, you're bussin' shots with my click
And that crew consists of my n***a Wrecker
But no, I'm the only bouncer, so love I, my brother
Big chop is on, I caught the storm
When I see a crazy cloud of meth comin' down like a hawk
And that can only mean Big Sam is in the hallway
With a fat blunt, gettin' fucked up all day
Slow decept you, flex you, now we bust
Fuck if we must, because in Glocks we trust
Open up your eyes, now you see your triggerstyle
Glocks pop up, n***a what now? ChickaPOW!
[Chorus]
[x4]
Buck Buck Buck
Yeah I let the lead out
Three fifty seven! Boom!
I put his head out

[Poet]
Listen to my 9-millimeter go bang
Shells drop from the Glock, now I know you can't hang
With the roughneck, hooligan, oh no not you again
Killin' mad force, no remorse when I do 'em in
Chose to oppose, now you sleep with the fishes
Tech-9 dreams clock nineteen wishes
My hollow point tips gets crazy fat like a ham
N***as try to play me out and I'll be damned if I don't blam
Step back, perpertratin' with the job
When it's time to survive, cock back with the four five
On the streets sweeper, you met the grim reaper
Layin' six feet down, 'cause it gets no deeper

[Chorus]
[x4]
Buck Buck Buck
Yeah I let the lead out
Three fifty seven! Boom!
I put his head out
[The beat goes on with some scratches and then fades out]