Orange Slices

[Verse 1: Kill Bill]

Ayo you finna get fixed in this bitch
Ain't really been giving a shit
More piff than a whip full of bricks
The pivot, I live for this shit
Mixed with a flick of the BIC
Picture the pixel a bit
Split for the split second precision and dip in the whip
Pimpin' get licked by the bitches dripping the drip, and I'm sick
You living a fictional flick
I'm gripping the spliff and then split
Clown-like methods, I'm down-right infection
Sound biters pound? I break 'em down like Tetris
The Passion of the Christ
I'm button-mashing looking nice
In NES with two blunts: It's Double Dragon [Dragging] for the night
Overstate the understated
Blowing grape and fuckin' jade
And every rapper's trying to throw some hands and get a touch of greatness
Kiss my fucking anus. All around the hole and shit
Bitches be like "Holy shit! Who's that who you're rolling with?"
I'm flowing til it's broken
You can quote the bloke with tokens
Ain't no games here, neither. Bitch I'm damn near choking
One blunt? Roll it
Two blunts? Smoking
Three blunts? Toking to the head; my mind's open
Pine smoking. Why no one got a drink in their hands?
Is it 'cause I'm by myself with six bullets in the cham-
-Ber? Burr. Swag-stunting 101 with them
And ooh, is they with you? I'd love to one-on-one with them
Pimp it's KB. Tell them bitches lay me
Chain got so many rocks, you'd think I lived with Jay-Z
Sippin' AZ iced-tea with the lemon in
Another word for dope? Kill Bill be the synonym
Fucking with them sentences. Structure and usages
Triple G's be the gang, boy I'm fucking with hooligans
Boy, I be rooted, and I'm so rude with the Ruger
And ne'er a bitch'll walk by without at least thinking of choosing him
A loser with loser-ish tendencies that just won the game
A couple block-huggers get me, but the rest don't understand
Not mainstream. Just a little off-center
The way I make her skirt hike, I'd make a living off centers
I'm quarterbacking. In the back, I'm quarter-bagging
With a sack of yellow and green shit, you'd swear I was born a Packer. Wow
On fire like spontaneous combustion
Y'all hating on me, cousin. Boy, stop playing, B. I'm busting
Bet I wet eyes. That youngin with the red eyes
Collision with the beast I'm beating, crashing like I'm Left-Eye
Rest in peace. I'll fucking take the rest and peace
And I'm gonna box 'em, leave 'em flotsam
Watch them haters sweat, I'm Keith
Keith Sweat. No singers here. Authentic, yeah
What I make off little beats combined could eat your fiscal year
So confident. My self-esteem's peaking
Hell-bound rapper: boy, my welcome team's demons

[Interlude: Kill Bill talking]

I'm done!

[Engineer talking]

Wait, for real?

[Kill Bill talking]

N-no...no. One more. I got one more

[Engineer talking]

That's what I thought

[Verse 2: Kill Bill]

I hit 'em with a little bit of venom in the middle
With the bars, so sick. Fuck bar-code shit
Smoking up a little bit of SARS, oh shit
With the marble kicks. Stone feet on beat, bitch
Kill Bill on the beat, still real in the streets
Gangrene's that clique fasho
Still making this music. Drug Influenced
Why this shit so cold?
I'm one-hundred percent not done with this shit
Still bump in the whip. Pump, pump, pumping your chicken
Instru-flipping. I'm pimping it. Never slipping, wow
Eyes ripping out their sockets for profit
I'm putting on for ne'er image, like Muhammad the Prophet
Outside the box, and I'm boxing, outfoxing the foxes
I'ma swang down, candy paint
Which I lane-switch on 'em

[Outro: Kill Bill talking]

Hey, have you guys ever heard the joke
Where Kill Bill came on the mic
And he had so much fucking swag that everyone died?
The end