Looking Down the Barrel of a Gun

Ah, rolling down the hill, snowballing, getting bigger
An explosion in the chamber, the hammer from the trigger
I seen him get stabbed, I watched the blood spill out
He had more cuts than my man Chuck Chillout

24 is my age and .22 is my gauge
I'm writing rhymes on a page, I'm going off in a rage

'Cause I'm out on a mission, a stolen car mission
Had a small problem with the transmission
3 on the tree in the middle of the night
I got this steak on my head 'cause I got into a fist fight

Life comes in phases take the good with the bad
You bought those coins on the street and you know you got had
It's all high spirit, you know you gotta hear it
Don't touch the mic baby, don't come near it

It's gonna getcha
It's gonna getcha
It's gonna getcha
It's gonna getcha

Looking down the barrel of a gun
Son of a gun, son of a bitch
Getting paid, getting rich

Ultra violence running through my head
Fuzzy navel y'all making me see red
Rapid fire Louie like Rambo got bullets
I'mma die harder than my man Bruce Willis

I love girlies, waxing and milking
Got more excuses than my man Dave Scilkin
Predetermined destiny is who I am
You got your finger on the trigger like the Son of Sam
I am like Clockwork Orange going off on the town
I've got posse bonanza to beat your ass down

I'm mad at my desk and I been writing all curse words
Expressing my aggressions through my schizophrenic verse words
You're a headless chicken chasin' a sucker free basin
Looking for a fist to put your face in

Get hip, get hip, don't slip, you knuckle heads
Racism is schism on the serious tip