Mistah F.A.B. - Roll Call lyrics

[Intro - Crooked I] Yeah, Million Dollar I was told only do what you afraid to Ya scared n***as? Its power in numbers From Long Beach to South Central From Watts to the bank My n***a Jay Rock [Jay Rock] I'm sargent slaughter when I hop up on this track dawg You know its armada, paint your whole muhf**in' town red when my lead hit the tablet And for the jealous (?) workin' my (?) like (?) I'm totally fitted, you collateral damage Anybody who challenge when I'm on can blow up a planet Nuclear warfare when I'm on this beat b**h I'm so hot, eight thousand degree sh** Murk yo a** with my trademark Step in yo central turn your studio to a grave yard I go hard you go soft you Barbie, see the pink in your eyes Nothing but a b**h in disguise These dick riders, steady tryna hitch 'em a ride (?) is over, go gitchu a (?) When this beef co*ked back might hit you wit five Leave yo brains on display for the news at nine That's how these Cali boys ride! [Coniyac] I does it from (?) new whips Im on money in a new sense, Im a nuisance Ain't no barricade I kinda left it, where that new set(?) I drift my own (?) and b**h I don't recruit raps Chase money to catch it we Franklin with (?) Practice on targets at random and ransom receivers Word binding is biblical, and (?) Landmine flow, the Johnny Depp blow as a poet(?) Im goin town on these n***as that been (?) Adam Impossible to touchdown on our when we sac em We sniper decipher (?) summer ignited, we fire Black dots winter mitten(?) now your times up Im west now rancid with extravagant transit Watching (?) get blue bruises to amuse news Channelling wolverine (?) x-men im damaging Playin pathologist to bodies just for the sampling n***a! [Gla**es Malone] I ain't no g**n rookie School of Hard Knocks, I ain't ever play hookie Took (?) Trap hall of fame'ers where the game need to put me So pushy bully bullies in the streets (?) quick to bring a fully to the beat Call that b**h a spoon, they'll be scoopin yall up If I ever get to empty all this (?) Look yung im a different breed of n***a Hungry, like Birdman don't feed a n***a I got work so I don't need the n***a Plus I got arms long as Trevor Ariza's n***a Act silly, test my Kevin hart We'll see who get the last laugh you motherf**ing Mark Curry, they screamin hurry up and buy They see the old dawg in my motherf**in eyes Wa**up 3x [Mistah FAB] I got a gift with this lyrical style And when I spit you might've thought I was a miracle child Murderous verbous(?) spits deliver pa**es Just like irvin did swervin in a suburban in dat car Full of urban kids Namin dat title alone terrify my rivals I never change like islam entertain the bible The spiritual mythical typical rippin flow That paralyze mcs im leavin em crippled tho Con artist I talk a koofi off of m**m domes Sylvester stallone tell rocky that the king is home When white b**hes bad as sharon stone Carryin zones bay area's own carry the throne Love my block so much man I married my zone I got jazz like jerry and sloan gravedigga Get out my way fore I bury you homes Im so unique theres no comparin the clones I'm gone [Crooked I] (?)