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For those of you, that think I'm not black, I'm here to tell you, that your sh*t is whack! I have dark skin, as black as can be, I walk with a swagger, and I smoke tree.
I dress with the style, girls take notice no doubt, An I don't roll preppy, my looks spell thugged-out! I sport large baggy pants, wit' a dew rag an cap, I give the finger to whitey's who say, "Why's he dressin' like that?
I ain't no street clown, so lookout when I step, 'cause I'll give you a beat down, you won't soon forget! Don't question my motives, don't sweat my technique, when I kick your scrotum, you won't hardly speak!
Your crew's backin' down, RUN whitey RUN! don't come back around, I'll pull out my gun. 9 millimeters, steel in your face, cock back on the hammer, blow you brains out the place!
Stains on the wall, and a still, headless body, Jet Li on your ass, and I don't know Karate. Won't nobody catch me, and I won't confess, but hold on a secind, while I clean up this mess!
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