(I cramp your style
  With a bullet and a smile) [Onyx]
    [ VERSE 1 ]
  Ugh, niggas on the d-l casin me out
  Truckin my jewels, feelin for the tools
  When they come they gots to come correct
  Because they know I catch wreck
  A well-known wild street vet
  Step into the kill zone, baby, it's on
  I pack the twin nine-mills that'll lift your dome
  Chrome pump with double-eyed slots and such
  A fully-auto Mac-dime that is sure to touch
  Ya, bust you with the Desert Eagle
  Street legal, move against my peole
  And the Ice gets evil
  Hit you with the .44 Smith & Wes-
  Son, you're best to run cause my Tec eats pests
  I got a glock with the laser, hot police taser
  Step in real close, I hit your throat with the razor
  You wanna live or die, it's your decision
  Talk shit, you're dissin, i got you in my night vision
  Brain fragments on the street released
  Another nigga fronts hard, another nigga deceased
  I got a H.K., A.K. and a M-16
  A 12-gauge street sweeper with the circular clip
  Quick to let projectiles fly, you die
  And watch your fat moms cry - bull's eye
    (I cramp your style
  With a bullet and a smile) [Onyx]
    What you think all the guns is for?
    [ VERSE 2 ]
  What's up, niggas don't seem to hear
  Still lookin crazy, let me make this clear
  Fool, the Ice ain't havin it
  And when I let loose lead, believe I'm accurate
  Fat scope on a 30???6
  Sawed-off double barrel and a pistol grip
  Pump on my lap at all times
  I fill my gauge shells with nickels and dimes
  Thompson Center spittin .45 slugs
  Black Mac-11, Python .357
  Snub-nose .38 or .380
  Seventy Automatic, full metal jackets
  Hollow points comin atcha fast
  You feel the slug before you hear the blast
    (I cramp your style
  With a bullet and a smile) [Onyx]
    Muthafuckas frontin hard
  Lookin at niggas crazy and shit
  Make a nigga break
  Nigga don't want me to pull out
    [ VERSE 3 ]
  I don't like shootin but I do shoot straight
  Niggas I be rollin with will shoot up a wake
  Why you wanna step in the sights of a nigga
  Known hair trigger, the coroner delivers
  More cold bodies to the morgue each weekend
  One minute you bleed, the next minute you're leakin
  Best to listen close cause this ain't no boast
  And never forget that I leave you wet
  Bloody, sticky, holes in your Dickey's
  Oh what a pity, lookin all shitty
  My Winchester will get the best of ya
  Hand grenades will fade all the rest of ya
  I reach out and touch you with the parabellum
  You got a crew, you better tell em