Looking Down the Barrel of a Gun

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

'Cause 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 the coins on the street and you know you got had

'Cause 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 get ya, it's gonna get ya

It's gonna get ya, girl, it's gonna get ya

Looking down the barrel of a gun

Son of a gun, son of a bitch

Gettin' paid, gettin' rich

Ultraviolence be running through my head

Cold medina making me see red

Rapid fire Louie, like Rambo got bullets

I'ma die harder like my kid Bruce Willis

I love girlies, waxing and milkin'

Coordinating trim is my man Dave Scilken

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 po boy's 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 freebasin'

You looking for a fist to put your face in

Well, get hip, get hip, don't slip, ya knuckle heads

Racism is schism, on a serious tip