Out The Speakers

[Verse One: Vakill]
I roast niggas till they beg me change the subject
I write, arrange and publish
Brains in the street at point blank range in public
When I spit a round, like a semi-auto with a queasy clip
Meeting earl, leaving your back open like a hospital gown
You better bite more than The Lox to beat me
Who you fucking with been nice, since Christ was on a box of Wheaties
Let bitches ass cheeks peeled apart
Got pussy falling from the heavens, don't know whether to fuck or build an Ark
Dragging his dicks, the antagonist [?] dragon fisted with a .44 mag and a biscuit
With no religious, ethnic or racial exception
Squeezing off on niggas, with a nut busting facial expression
You're a monopoly house in a volcano vicinity
I ain't got shit to lose, except unlike you, my anal virginity
Let Juice catch bodies and I'm gonna catch the bitch
My trigger finger got a bad case of crabs now who wanna scratch the itch?