Line 'Em Up

[D-Con] Line 'em up, line 'em up, put 'em in a line dude I'm sick of these pigs like the motherfuckin' swine flu We sick of bein' lied to, need I remind you? Half you rappers claim hoods you wouldn't even drive through I've got the sickest mind since ODB I came to put the game in order, OCD Haha, If you could only see Like a grand of fake cash, ya'll some phony g's We can throw hands like a poker game I'll squeeze your fuckin' throat till your vocals change Fuck the ones who hate on my huge checks dude And to my dyslexic haters, U-F too Your whole styles played out like a fiddle, faggot Like a small poster, I'm a little graphic If you ever gripe that you don't like my track Thats like comin' up to Debo and askin' for your bike back In the mall the other day with a new girl, splurgin' She say my flow tighter than the pussy of a virgin She's lookin for a sugardaddy, askin' where the price at Bitch! Do I look like I look at the pricetag? Stacks on the whip, boy I'm sittin on chrome Plus my pockets look like a senior citizen home Smoke trails follow me like I'm the head of a cult We rip the bong like the shirt of The Incredible Hulk Got Bic lighters on deck if you ever lack one Pushin' obese people down hills, roll me a fat one High till we die, Snoop is knowin' what I mean My eyes are the only thing droopin' lower than my jeans Haters talk tough, but you better listen cowards Step to me you'll get dropped like soap in prison showers So all that rappin' you do about your hollows, bury it I'm bringin' more heat than Apollo's Chariot Groupies chasin me like they out runnin' laps These bitches pull a Brett Favre, they keep comin' back I was broke as fuck and they'd barely get love then But now I run the underground like Harriet Tubman So fuck passin' the torch, I'm keepin' it like a secret My words like Nostradamus so you better believe it I wasn't feelin ya'll like a parapalegic Thought this rap shit would never work out like an obese kid These bitches talkin serious, baby we can cut it up But talkin long term its like a hurricane, shut her up Wants me to cum inside her like the Trojan Horse But you won't breed my seed because I wear my Trojan, whores Like Usain Bolt, I'm on the track Can't sleep on my skill, insomniac I'm just rappin' anything, I don't need a theme You know your lifes good when it's better than your dreams Sick of these snakes like I'm Sam Jackson 'Cept nothin' I say is ever plain and I can't stand actin' Phony ass rappers, lyin' through speakers But me I run the map like it's tied to my sneakers So to those clamin' the streets in your wack rap circles But shots'll make you duck like an Aflac commercial But me I'm lettin' off the entire clip Cause I'm out for more blood than a vampire crip