Position:Home>Poetry> Dont Test My Gangsta!?

N*gga don't you know that I can make your life a living hell
And I mean that literally
the place where demon spirits dwell
Empty all these buck-shot shells,
make your f*cking body smell
I can shoot you up so bad,
till what you were they cannot tell
F*ck me with me,
your f*cking with the best
And your also messing with the wrong one
I will hit you with the milli-milli gun
yeah the millimeter gun
Blow out ya lungs
Like them old I-Tal-Iians,
Mafia, Gangsta son
When you see me coming,
better run for f*cking cover, (BOOM!)
(BANG!!)
AK,
SK,
forty four
Tre-8
his body kinda heavy,
D!.O!.A!.,
dead weight
B*tch you'd better take notes,
before you end up cut-throat
end up on the ground broke
with your f*ckin' shirt soaked
Ini-Mini-Miny-Mo,
blow a n*gga out his clothes
Come out the trench-coat with a Sawed-Off,
and lay me down a hoe
So if you think that I ain't a gangsta
come and test the water
You will be the slaughtered,
the dearly departed!
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