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Yeah Outlandish, I brandish the weapon of mass Destruction, I cut 'em, I'm bustin' yo' ass Sucka-ass cats be sufferin' succotash Sylvester, still wreck you, fuck's this trash? (Woo) I'm Sean Price (Price) and the price is millions Gang-raid mother, the soul of a thousand children Half God body, other half Rob Zombie Lift chrome, gets dissed on like I'm John Gotti Investin' in chrome, Sylvester Stallone First blood, the first slug rest in ya dome Uh, the man stunt with the God step I'm old school like manhuntin' the projects Believe it, dude Undisputable bars, you far from believable I epitomize fuzzy Then dignify sky-rise that signified Bugsy 'Dro indo, a nine milly, my truly fly Lay a nigga out like Cochise in Cooley High Headshots, death shots, red tops Mediterranean cuisine at the best spots À la carte or whole menu for wifey Baby backs with good head and some Nikes Don't take me lightly Half these suckas, they wanna fight me Letras de cancionesWhat's they reason? They girl want a piping Popped the E and drunk the forty 'til they said I was hyphy This ain't no live feed, this is my life, G A crazy Puerto Rican, split your head to the white meat Get a nigga hit up in the bing when the kite leave It's Coronelli Capone I'm the reason E.T. phone home, 'cause he pussy Pop-off on the rookies The empire get fired upon, and quickly I don't hit weed, the weed hits me, I'm just G Don't ask if I rap, I emcee I rhyme dangerous, trigger finger hand gestures Won't spell it out, I'm illiterate to all sign language I'm anguish, workin' ya nerves, purgin' the verbs Never been a nerd with the words No I don't splurge on a bird, she gets nada Burnin' herb on the block, no ??? But still I feel a power surge Find me where the dollars merge Beat your shot clock 'fore you chop a bird Choose your sport from where the users snort And violate rules in court Like a black John Gotti style Blowin' trial in a pair of crocodiles Andyeah, we still the hottest out Where the fake shit is not allowed I'ma giant, you's a hobbit, wack like a mob hit Gun bust ya shit, leave your whole knot gushin' Like a Russian with slick-back hair named Vitali Son, you ain't a G, you more like, "Gee, golly" We prolly steppin', women all swoon Who's rude, a tall goon and still read Carl Jung They said pick one side, what are we, ten? (What are we, ten?) I wanna watch CNN and listen to C-N-N Scooped her in the hooptie, the new side chick groupie Waves be three-sixty like Anderson Coop's This for my cats who step in the spot and make the party theirs Took the GB, TECs and some Cartiers Dudes who had to read as hobby and were still out Committin' robberies, that's a juxtaposition In the lobby with Prosecco on the glass Spy, spaz, never let a set goal pass, check it Before they all Gusto with low cash Rap dudes better learn to keep them shekels stashed We both put out projects that had people ravin' 'Cause my shit is a classic and yours techno trash Cats be drinkin', world prolly end, then some Somalian Butt pirates take their drinks and slip some molly in I'm a classic, man, type S for the package You wack, even your white friends is laughin' From Letras Mania