Re: another dead soldier.
We used to be number 10, now we're permanent one
In the battle lost my finger, Mic became my arm
Pistol nozzle hits your nasal, blood becomes lukewarm
Tell the woman be easy Naah squeeze the Charmin
Test Wyclef, see death flesh get scorned
Beat you so bad make you feel like you ain't wanna be born
And tell your friends stay the hell out of my lawn
Chicken George became Dead George stealin' chickens
From my farm, damn, another dead pigeon
If your mafiosos then I'm bringin' on Haitian Sicilians
Nobody's shootin', my body's made of hand grenade
Girl bled to death while she was tongue-kissing a razor blade
That sounds sick maybe one day I'll write a horror
Blackula comes to the ghetto, jacks an Acura
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