* send corrections to the typist

[Verse 1]
Your house of representatives, I lay down when clashing
Pulverizing player haters, this is my passion

Chopping competition like a lawn-mower when thrashing
My weapons laying niggaz flat like OD's of aspirin
Murder bitches in the bed, strapped up with magnum
Semen is the weapon and I cock, aim, and blast them
After pussy pleasure, like a zip-lock, I trash them
Dispose of my affection when another nigga stab them
Down for the cause, seeing "Triple Bitches" fall
Headbussaz getting mauled, who the fuck you gonna call
No apologies, can't demolish me, this atrocity
Predicted by Nostradamous, and classical astrology
Devils go to hell, murdered dead in ATL
I'm the prick you built your church on, no way you will prevail
The beam from the tone, guillotine, niggaz' domes
Should've calculated game, no running when it's on

[Chorus]
You boys wanna get it on, that'll work
It ain't no love being shown, that'll work
Cause we'll jack you for your stones that you worth
And when we get to cracking domes, that'll work
Lemme hit that weed, that'll work
Nigga hit that drank, that'll work
Nigga move them seeds, that'll work
Take them out that dank, that'll work
Come ride with me, that'll work
High-side with me, that'll work
Get high with me, that'll work
Smoke tai with me, that'll work

[Verse 2]
Another bitch I murder, blow away, Lord Sniff-a-Mous
That moving script-Montana bitch was never dangerous
Niggaz get fedi, and I'm ready, with machetes
Pull a drive-by, and ball off, like Mario Andretti (Brr-uck-em)
You diss on radio, I come with street polluted tactics
An automatic, hot as acid, when I pull and blast it
Your static left you dead, where you stand, fuck a casket
A casualty nigga relaxing on his air-mattress
You hataz slower, know a Tech war is my profession
Do quiet niggaz do more damage, when they bring aggression
I stayed in silency and thuggery, and learned a lesson
My smiff-n-wessen run the show, in streets of Armageddon
Another crazy bitch is braver, dingy shit is smelling
And Over-6 bitches, I split it over 50 melons
After the heat, my enemies repeat to be deceased
How could you bitches be elite, your strip in rip in pieces

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]
A little static ain't a problem
Animalistic like a savage, when I rob them
Wretches get blown out they shoes, and we grown men
Millimeter chrome is the tool in the lion's den
I slayed in pieces, check this man, I'm glad as fuck
I'm gone, whack rappers on Posse songs
Fucking up my shine, trying to let the truth be known
Everybody left the 6, and now they sick
The click that I'm with is the shit, and we gone murder you (ha ha)
I done showed hella love, I done earned a million dubs
I done blasted at your enemies and left them in the mud
But you tried to cut my throat, pulling out stuff to keep from broke
Bitches tried to keep my royalties, to build and share coke
You the nigga in the thong, that you mentioned in the song
Talking in 3rd person about yourself, you got it wrong
Ain't no refuge, niggaz cracking up like test-tubes
For the next move, Juicy J'll get his flesh blew

[Chorus]

[T-Rock]
Huh, you motherfuckers must've not knew who you was messing with or something?
I guess they though T-Rock was gonna fall like a bitch
But guess what nigga you ain't never fucked with a nigga like me
And when you fuck with me, I'm at you

[T-Rock imitating DJ Paul]
T-Rock man, what the fuck man, uh..
Damn man, my little bitty arm and shit

[T-Rock]
Yea I know why that motherfucker so small
cause you've been sticking that motherfucker up Juicy J ass
You bunch of gay motherfuckers
Fuck Three Six nigga, you can't fuck with A-Town
Thoroughbred, College Park, Area 51 Terrorists nigga
This is TBK on mine, Triple Bitch Killa
So fuck a small arm ass nigga like you
And fuck that gay ass nigga Juicy J
You the bitchiest nigga out the motherfuckers
You weak ass bastards
Fuck you nigga, go suck somebody else's dick
Cause I ain't with that shit