Neighbor

[Neighbor]

aka Outlaw

Posted on: Rapflava, HF, RM, Urbanflows, Netcees

[Saint]

I bucket 'til the drumstick.. that's KFC
The .40 give 'em whiplash.. that ain't even breakneck speeds
Big dong swingin at my knees like a bowling pin
& my nuts're Double Trouble, nicknamed my ballsack the Olsen Twins
I brought a knife that'll Bobby Flay ya.. all my lines is Versace-tailored
Only play w/ them dollar signs 'cause I wake up on auto-grind like a coffee maker
Fuck a shotty, I'll pull pistols.. there's just somethin about cocking a full nickle
You on the corner w/ ya ass clenched, while 'Boris w/ a bad bitch.. no Rocky & Bullwinkle
The zen killer.. you a comedy act; Ben Stiller
The left put you on ice, no warm fuzzy feelings.. that's a Chin chilla
I let my chrome set the tone like a metronome
The gat in your face & my finger got the Reaction to spray like Kenneth Cole's men's cologne
Twist you up like pretzel dough & scream on 'em like a megaphone
Scream on 'em like an Ethiopian w/ Tourette syndrome standin next to Joe at a metal show
Keep a clip by the dresser.. got P90's equipped w/ suppressors
Beam'll aim & this heat exchange turn you to liquid like a mixing condenser
My straight right feared.. my left wrapped around the gauge like earlobes
Keep somethin large by the waist that go hard in the paint like clear coat
I strangle the game.. you on that sucka shit, my bankroll's insane
You sellin crack while I went back to get my Master's like Django Unchained
a Russian marksman when trouble startin; duct tape on the double cartridge
Get pistol-whipped off the buckle harness, smackin ya face w/ the serial like Uncle Martin
My Glock's untamed & I ain't w/ the frontin.. not today
Catch you outta pocket & get called on audible when my shotgun play
You even talk, the gat gets drawn. Turn ya whole block to Babylon.
Boy cross that line, you gon' see body parts fly... like dropping an atom bomb
Ya'll faker than Halloween blood.. this 9mm holdin factory slugs
My weapons're knockouts; even the chopper got a sharp hook like a grappling gun
Hold heat like Cyclops shades, give you a high-top fade w/ Psylocke's blade
Talk shit, I'm cookin Pan w/ that cold metal - that's how you icebox Cake
Ya crew sweet as pie.. I got rounds that cost a hundred a slug
No pre-heat when I roll up on your boysenberry y'all fruitcakes under the crust
The fade rough.. get straight cut; that's a hard part
Coke cookin up, I walk around w/ my nose fulla dust; that's an aardvark
Have ya fam sleepin 20,000 leagues deep; I'm talkin tidal explosions
Only Delta waves they'll be feeling's when I crash their fucking flight in the ocean
I got the game in a Gracie hold - this bitch in Cruise control like Katie Holmes
Catch me in the street, masked up w/ them shells; that's Casey Jones
I got your crack fiend Trap Queen in my kitchen whippin the hardest
I had to introduce her to my stove 'cause that bitch's retarded
OG status.. the hype's infectious when ya'll see these bars smash
I'm certified from breathin life into these dummies, no CPR class
been itchin to pounce shit, u'd see fists to a mouth splits;
get bruised & left w/ more hook marks than the riddlers outfit
We click pistols.. silencer on the 9, getcha shit riddled
Guns & butter; potato on the biscuit, that's a McGriddle
don't see competition, just a buncha noobs I'm running through
Game recognize game; I feel like Jayceon Taylor staring at a buck, confused
open season.. I'm loadin pieces w/ red dots & homing beacons
You claim presidential, but no one fucking knows who you are like Grover Cleveland
My psyche's fucked.. put ya whole team on ice; Mighty Ducks
That 40 ringing on your block like the ice cream truck
Talk is cheap.. I'm on that God degree like divinity school
Carve a figure-eight in ya fuckin throat & watch your blood infinity pool
Crime business, no eye witness.. shots roar when I stretch the metal
Burner up in the briefcase, your whole top floor can get the memo
Shit's feelin like Dawn of the Dead, I was gone 'til November
But the champ's back; you faggots don't deserve an honorable mention
& I constantly pressure any opponent w/ a flawless offensive
King of the division, watch as every head in the tournament's severed
A thoroughbred born in the trenches w/ the strongest genetics
It ain't just a dominant gesture when I slaughter contenders like Conor McGregor
Bags wanna be Bronsolino.. I was finna chill, but fuck it, I'm gone
Oh, you like Action? Figures.. 'cause you play w/ 'em in the tub at ya mom's
My big homie chefin a lot, baking soda next to the kettle w/ rocks
Dog, ya name's Constrikta & you can't even wrap ya head around gettin a job
Aero can get it too.. the RPG I'm totin'll blast you out of ya home
Only Wall Street you'll see is the entire fuckin front of your house in the road
Shotty by the waist, I ain't fuckin w/ them tranquilizers
Talk shit & Big Poppa Pump flyin off the buckle like a Frankensteiner
Peep the highroller steez.. pyrokinesis, I'm a psycho unleashed
Keep a nine holstered, plus that chopper in the car like a Micro Machine
'm sealing ya fate.. Achilles heel, I'm really real; you a play gangster
We'll only see Chin strap when I fade him ear-to-ear w/ a straight razor
An immovable boss.. drive-by's & funeral plots
Catch me hangin out the whip w/ two pipes, no dual exhaust
My right gun's a Peacemaker, my left gun's a big chopper
I'm a lead dumper, wig shopper.. that's a head hunter; witch doctor
girl's a foul ho.. bitch goin down slow like the Dow Jones
Knock her mouth hole out cold, Head bangin off the buckle like Al Snow
Python strangler.. rearrange your atoms like an ion chamber
The iron banger put your feet by your head like a Lion Tamer
Straight head shots.. you talk wreckless, we bang them Glocks
& I put that shit on everything like Frank's Red Hot
Riot pump.. I'm in the streets like scare tactics & tear gas canisters
Mobbin on sets, plus the chopper on deck like an aircraft carrier
Your ass owe me money, I'm in your living room w/ the snub to ya jaw
Have your bitch screamin, "D-d-do-do you have it?!" right before I put your GUTS on the wall
Too many clones that found a name.. s'why I'm stayin out the game
Bunch'a Samuel L. Jackson ass niggas, all these "motherfuckas" sound the same
My swag lives forever.. keep the mask & Beretta w/ a flaskful of Devil's Cut
Plus, the strap where the weapon's hung got more rounds than Allen from Metal Slug