Lyrics:
Stick Figures

get one less chump I encourage all frauds to jump I heard they taste like chicken And my bitch is in the kitchen With a pot of hot grease And a couple side dishes Go figure

the Mafia remember them? Tell 'em when I used to mess with gentlemen Straight up apostles, now strictly niggaz that jostle Kill a nigga for the figure, how you figure

Yo yo brand new KRS y'all, Maximum Strength 5 Boroughs of death we rep to death Yo Kris, set it for The Bronx.. [KRS-One] We hit em and get em, we stick

ever figured out where you were callin' 'em from They'd come and bust your head right in with a ratchet Listen to me Don't go makin' phony calls Please stick

headed for the West Heard they got a couple banks in town that ain't been held up yet Well, uh, I oughta make it by sundown I figure that's enough time

and I told ya we'd make it Kept it real and it'd neva be fake shit Half baked and gone off this indoe stick Wanna hit it call just as you next Hit it

is a rebel That been through some shit, seen some shit you couldn't bear Only a few make it out, niggaz dead or in jail I figured that I would just

tryin' to infilitrate, give me a case I'm real like, bitch, get the fuck out my face I'm real like let me stick my dick in ya mouth, give you a taste

**** w*** u* a** j*** C**** deals on every corner, fiends wanna foam you with soap And, if life's a b****, then I bet she bitter and cold Every time she thinking I fold, seven figures