Lyrical Wizardry (Junior M.A.F.I.A.)

Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's like Murray on SC's Never flaunt, now motherfuckers come test me Burnin' everybody hotter than torches at Jamaican parties Far from angels, niggas can't see me like Charlie Style weak? Hardly! Don't let the whacked pursue you like Marley JM clique moves in packs like whities on Harleys Niggas get injured, fucked do' in 40 fingers Got bitches by bike bar bussin' Glocks off a' niggas Klep don't give three shits to flip scripts Miss bullets from clips, leave niggas rollin' up skateboards Wit nuttin' under they hips, bitch, so if you test me Shit gets messy, bustin' .38 speci outta paper bags like Joe Pesci Yo, you know the tune make sure bitches don't eat When it's time to shit out them coke balloons Balked up the ninja when it got shady, now I got grown ladies Bustin' .380's outta E Class Mercedes Hurry the fuck up bitch, get on Fuck you motherfucker let me out this L There they go right there, dot them niggas Motherfuckers MC's get cut like glass, cut like glass Rag tagged and crash, hemp bags, come save dat ass Who wanna get broke the fuck up? Tell me Freakin' vocabulary like Chinese and spelling bees T-P-E-L-K held to reflect a device-es The nicest, Jesus Christ-es Junior Mafioso, niggas get torn off head to torso Bullets evacuated out windows From Hekkyl and Coch, P7 inmates Extra .380 on a string 'round my neck cos feds check the waist No time to waste, grab the loot and escape before next break Heads are clockin', private eyes are watchin' Nigga caught up in the hustle Fuck flippin' packages and tyin' up, minx and rings I bubble Trouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors Beeling boots is essence, bookin' Pelle's in my drawers Armani, Gianni Versace, V2 Lost count o' all the little sections me and mans ran through It ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards Leave them bitch ass niggas screamin' like a fuckin' retard Lyrically I come off like ink alarms Got styles under the wing like spread is booked under my arms Niggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV Tryin' to peep my steez, like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen Hey, you're not fifteen I'm fifteen, what? What do you think we are, assholes or somethin' Fuck you, soundin' like that nigga from Night Court Loose my cuffs I'm outta here MC's be fake like toupes so I transplant Implant my fist to their face makin' their skin red Sound waves disrupted, they fucked, kid Air holes bloody rupted but that ain't nuttin' The best is yet to come MC's get strung like heads on drums They don't be knowin' what I'm knowin', flowin' like I'm flowin' Makin' motherfuckers take nose dives like 747 Boeings Obnoxious beef's squashes face-to-face Niggas get wet up like Alasha's on Klep's place Through the hard time sayin' prayers committin' crimes Sick minds don't care, rockin' parties from front to rear Brains engulfed by ferocious [Incomprehensible] Runnin' up on Big wit Lex wit nappies doused with chloroforms Livin' in a world where you do what you must If preachers be robbin' niggas who the fuck can you trust?