Guilty Simpson - Coroner's Music lyrics

You gotta look around, there ain't nothin' changed I sho' hope somebody's listenin' to what I'm sayin' [It'll be a cold day in hell I would never change, my style or my profile] Coroner Music, G.S. boi! O.J. Simpson... [Verse 1] Coroners must love my sh** for certain, I keep 'em workin' Cause your boy got pull like a diesel person In this rap tug-o-war, I yank the cord and watch 'em all fall down My rapport is lethal, no equal, no survivors, no sequel None compare, they crumble when the monster stares I see through you, my heat do to you what they should have did Molotov co*ktails tossed in ya crib d**h to the fake is the only way to live Mama said give, car is charity Guns at the temple for a moment of clarity There's no comparing me, please! I'd rather be a corpse than compared to these wack emcees Make a list, whoever you dudes take, never confuse great I do 'em in like tube steak, and digest 'em Seven Mile section, vest for protection, it's no correction Guilty, I got next, and a red-dot to the chest of these of these so-called high prospects I got techs and techniques unknown to those That misrepresent the stage when I stole the show Detroit the city you suppose' to know, already Respect my home, the dreads heavy Deadly in the jungle, wit' a machete Choppin' through vines, organized crime Solar eclipses couldn't stop my shine Tryin' to sabotage when I jot my rhymes On a stone tablet, I use hammer and nails Poppin' aspirin, the rap game environment(?) is hell Stay ???, they wanna do me in like Kwame So I k**ed Patrick, it's still practice To keep it ghetto, pull more strings than Geppetto And laugh while the stray echo, and wake up neighbors What I toke's ridiculous, I spit black licorice flavor How you a playa? they put you waivers Black acid, when I drop on paper O.J. Simpson, Ode to the Ghetto: The Remixes Evil, like three sixes