License To Kill

Ball player, but grew up to be the bat man Mad man who talks smack with a mad back hand But a bad back, still I pull my own weight Gang way, make way for an emcee that's untamed With the pen game to end ten names before the day ends Take ten emcees who think that their dope Bring in ten more in case the other one's choke And ten reinforcements all with a mic cord Now that's thirty emcees hanging three to a rope Now the game's Adverse so it's on a Hiatus So bring your tax papers, I'm collecting the payments And putting C-O on the map, how's that for a statement No arraignment, I got a license to kill Thrill with skill since before Foreman had grills The technical spectacle of decibels So terrible that all damage is irreparable This is what happens when you put Canibus in a Big L Or a Cool J and take a B.I.G. Puff, well You can read Hieroglyphics like the grower's named Del But it'll leave your eyes Crooked like you rap with Joell Twelve bars to go like I'm trying to get lit But I'm discussed, i guess that's why I spit What time is it? Miller Time? No hammer time Bringing down the hammer, so your head ache, morning after But with all the power in my veins, we'll have mourning after hours Cuz my mixtapes drop from the top of Trump Tower We don't dump our clips, we're the type to reload after And riddle you with bullets till you spell PIR backwards So silent nobody cares if it goes down Gets no news coverage like if Rihanna had beat Chris Brown So while emcees were out guzzling pills I was sharpening skills to get licensed to kill