Tiger S t r i p e s

Hand-off My voice carry like Tyrone Wheatley... Straight out the box Make it happen like a bowl of Wheaties I’m in the spot Same rapper on a dope CD... You’ Jamie Fox- “Ray” Actin’ like you don’t see me... From here to Georgia (George across) Cross Zaire, to Foreman... Thinking you a star Get tossed by ninja swordsman... Sharp steel vivid Come wit it, like Bill Bitches I kill vicious, with lyrics Your mission, clinic aborted... Hands in the air Look like a Michigan Portrait I’m First...Second...Third Place Maybe you “Four-fit” (forfeit) Five...Six...Seven...Ate (Eight), many Emcee’s But Nine times outta Ten, I be aiming at Corporate... Young, Black, and don’t give a Flying fuck Tiger strut On his path Act like, you know the Math- Minus-Plus... Families “divided” up We don’t “multiply” Cuz we dying from the bullets flying- Duck- From the Iron tucked... Sirens come Five-O’s wit guns Deer (Dear) brothers Don’t try to run They’ll scope you out with the rifle- Hunt Chalk line’m up... We pack enough Heat To car-jack a fire truck And make the Hoes wanna ride wit us...