Junior M.A.F.I.A. - Lyrical Wizardry lyrics

[Kleptomaniac] Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's like Murray on SC's Never flaunt, now motherf**ers come test me Burnin everybody hotter than torches at Jamaican parties Far from angels, n***as can't see me like Charlie Style weak? Hardly! Don't let the wacked persue you like Marley JM clique moves in packs like whities on Harleys n***as get injured, f**ed do' in 40 fingers Got b**hes by bike bar bussin Glocks off a' n***as Klep don't give three sh**s to flip scripts Miss bullets from clips, leave n***as rollin up skateboards Wit nuttin under they hips, b**h, so if you test me sh** gets messy, bustin .38 speci Outta paper bags like Joe Pesci Yo, you know the tune Make sure b**hes don't eat when it's time to sh** out them coke balloons Balked up the ninja when it got shady, now I got grown ladies Bustin .380's outta E Cla** Mercedes (Hurry the f** up b**hm, get on!) (f** you motherf**er let me out this L) (There they go right there, dot them n***as) (Motherf**ers!! *gun shots*) MC's get cut like gla**, cut like gla** Rag tagged and crash, hemp bags, come save dat a** Who wanna get broke the f** up? Tell me! Freakin vocabulary like Chinese and spelling bees T-P-E-L-K held to reflect a device-es The nicest, Jesus Christ-es Junior Mafioso, n***as get torn off head to torso Bullets evacuated out windows From Hekkyl and Coch, P7 inmates Extra .380 on a string 'round my neck cos feds check the waist No time to waste, grab the loot and escape before next break Heads are clockin, private eyes are watchin n***a caught up in the hustle f** flippin packages and tyin up, minx and rings I bubble Trouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors Beeling boots is essence, bookin Pelle's in my drawers Armani, Gianni Versace, V2 Lost count o' all the little sections me and mans ran thru It ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards Leave them b**h a** n***as screamin like a f**in retard Lyrically I come off like ink alarms Got styles under the wing like spread is booked under my arms n***as couldn't see me with closed circuit TV Tryin to peep my steez, like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen (Hey, you're not fifteen) I'm fifteen, what? (What do you think we are? a**holes or somethin?) f** you! Soundin like that n***a from Night Court Loose my cuffs I'm outta here! MC's be fake like toupes so I transplant Implant my fist to their face makin their skin red Soundwaves disrupted, they f**ed, kid Airholes bloody rupted but that ain't nuttin The best is yet to come MC's get strung like heads on drums They don't be knowin what I'm knowin Flowin like I'm flowin Makin motherf**ers take nose dives like 747 Boeings Obnoxious beef's squashes face-to-face n***as get wet up like Alasha's on Klep's place Thru the hard time sayin prayers committin crimes Sick minds don't care, rockin parties from front to rear Brains engulfed by ferocious??? Runnin up on Big wit Lex wit nappies doused with chloroforms Livin in a world where you do what you must If preachers be robbin n***as who the f** can you trust?