Six Shooters

[Verse One: Murs] Fuck everybody Fuck everybody Fuck everybody and that ain't gotta rhyme with nothing That's just how I feel Not the Mad Rapper, just a brother with no deal Rocked all around the world on the strength of my skill Japan, Australia and Europe know the deal Gave it up for L.A. at every spot I chill For y'all that don't know Living Legends is the band on this six shot revolver Not an automatic but it's guaranteed to jam to the start to the finish A smile on my face when the Beat Junkies spin this From 18th Street to the show lines on Venice I love my city L.A. fool what? Talk bad about my town? Dude, fucking shut up 'Fore I have to come through and Psst, psst, psst; beat everybody up Grab the microphone, I'll eat everybody up Except for Ab Rude Had to make a funny Fuck battle raps, I'm 'bout the good times and money My hood rhymes and honies That's all that really counts Breaking up MC's like I'm breaking up an ounce Strictly for the prophet A lyrical assassin Love latina's always Simply abbreviated, means I love L.A Mid-City one time, now what the doctor gotta say? [Verse Two: Dr. Oop] Quick! Summon your troops, here comes Oop I rock the loops that makes the fly girls Shoop Like Pepa and Salt, plus get loose like a leper Kicking much caboose with the [?] lecture You might catch a bad two or three Cause on the mic it's you or me I've got a poetry degree from USC Actually mine is South Central with a six shooter pistol Here comes Siskel and Ebert and leave without Siskel In this flick I wiggle my nose like Bewitched Blinker, blinker, blinker and extinct your whole outfit All y'all Street rhyme fight scenes recall Mike Tyson beating down Mitch Green in a street brawl Catch a hee-haw from a black rap Ryu Mister Verbal Sunshine will ride through and fry you Even if Don King's beside you or Trinidad We can't lose Oop ooze from the pen and pad