Put A Collar On Em
Put a colla on 'em
Put a colla on 'em
Blaqman's on the loose, put a colla on 'em
Put a colla on 'em
I can relate 'cause I do .45 sessions
Keeps me zoned especially when I'm stressing
Breathe in deep so I can release a blessing
So much iron call me Smith and Wesson
Five point seven to charge up the challenger
Nine with seventeen, that's the crowd manager
Anabolic with the beats, speaker cone damager
Jeans loose, too much bone to wear Wranglers
Splash on that ass then mash on the gas
Keep the stogie passed, make the session last
Caffeine up ya crash, barbituate ya past
Elevate ya stash, keep a .9 in the dash
I bang on heartthrobs, I heart rob gorillas
Call me Ali and call this Manila
Call me magilla the banana clip filla'
I just stogied the session, kill ya self thriller
Why get mad when I can get even?
Look at me strange, I make ya stop breathing
When I was little the hood labeled me a heathen
So I'm a product of constantly being mistreated
They said I was an idiot, but I didn't believed it
Told me to stay grounded, 'cause stars I couldn't reach it
Played like these keys, so I can't forgive the treason
So I remove spine from thieves, leaving fams grieving
I'm off the chain, my teeth like rusty nails
I enter through ya dreams, welcome to my hell
Apocalyptic and cryptic, I'll make ya brain swell
Cocked it then ripped it, leaving cats to epic fail
Kimber ain't saftied, rounds randomly go off
Lecxs has a temper, so duck when I pop off
I'm kicking up shit, that makes ya chest cough
Put a collar on me before I go off
I'm running loose, unchained unlimited range
Your chest cage closed, I open the gauge
Meet the shadow seeker, please feed my rage
I'm like a volcano, I can't be tamed
Rocket launchers and missiles, pain like child birth
Fifty cal and 105's, so I can go to work
Barrett on ya dome, now ya team's merked
Where you were standing's now disturbed earth
Where are you hot, I'll bring the rain
Where are standing, I'll leave a stain
We can knuckle up, I'll expose brains
We can break bread after I break ya frame
I'm riding down Speedway on ramp the freeway
Getting money three ways, don't stress my bizay
It's big Lecxs, I make it hard not e-zay
From kick drums to kicking dum niggas believe may
Autor(es): Robert Hill
