Looking Down The Barrel of a Gun

I'm rolling down the hill, snowballing, getting bigger

An explosion in the chamber, the hammer from the trigger

I seen him get stabbed, I watched the blood spill out

He had more cuts than my man Chuck Chillout

24 is my age, and 22 is my gauge

I'm writing rhymes on a page, I'm going off in a rage

Becuase I'm out on a mission, a stolen car mission

Had a small problem with the transmission

Three on the tree in the middle of the night

I have this steak on my head 'cause I got into a fist fight

Life comes in phases, take the good with the bad

You bought those coins on the street, and you know you got had

Because it's all high spirit, you know you gotta hear it

Don't touch the mic baby, don't come near it

It's gonna getchya, it's gonna getchya

It's gonna getchya, girl, it's gonna getchya

Looking down the barrel of a gun

Son of a gun, son of a bitch

Getting paid, getting rich

Ultra violence be running through my head

Cold Medina, y'all making me see red

Rapid fire Louie like Rambo got bullets

I'm gonna die harder like my kid Bruce Willis

I love girlies, waxing and milking

Coordinating chicks is my man Dave Scilkin

Predetermined destiny is who I am

You got your finger on the trigger like the Son of Sam

I am like Clockwork Orange going off on the town

I've got homeboys bonanza to beat your ass down

Well I'm mad at my desk, and I be writing all curse words

Expressing my aggressions through my schizophrenic verse words

You're a headless chicken chasin' a sucker free basin

You're looking for a fist to put your face in

Get hip don't slip knuckle heads

Racism is schism on the serious tip