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?