Your Turn to Die

DJ On Point: This shit right here is by Cig featuring Formz. It's called
It's Your Turn to Die. The Forgotten Borough, the mixtape

[Chorus]
Who the fuck is talkin' shit!?
Bet this pussy gon' back down quick
Grab your guns, better rep your clique
G's up T's down, it's your turn to die!

Who the fuck is talkin' shit!?
Bet this pussy gon' back down quick
Grab your guns, better rep your clique
G's up T's down, it's your turn to die!

[Cig]
They rappin' hard now, cause that's what sell homes
Formz: When only thing they ever killed was they cell phones
Swell domes of rappers posin' like a hard ass
When only gun he ever seen drawn was in art class
Darts blast, so fuck that rep you doubt
You're so ugly cashiers won't even check you out
Doubt your clout, with lies bout the dealt bricks you sold
When only time you felt brick's when you're cold
And when I'm old, I plan to be the best in the game
West rest, test the aim of the vest and the chain
Messed with the lame, and know that the kid keeps scopes
Cig's next in line, frankly, I'm the last street hope
You callin' her wifey but she's one to keep, note
That Mark Felt ain't the only 1 admittin' to deep throat
Heat soaks, hate the kid, but you'll buy it still
Cause when I come see you, you're quiet like fire drills, so!

[Chorus]

[Cig]
Truth or dare? it's the truth that Cig's the hardest
So how dare you wanna step to this artist
Tucked Mag and a clip, I drop a line on a track
Fuck baggin' a nick when you got a dime in the sack
Grind with a pack, stack, dunny, word, true
I've sold enough weight to give New York the bird flu
Screw your bird too, she blew me in bunches
Her neck movin' up and down like she doin' crunches
Threw in the punches, I'm the best and they know it
Bet your Bucks I'm the number 1 pick like Bogert
Wrote it, they quote it, they sayin' Cig's a force
I got enough lines to fill up all 12 months of the Source
Of course this kid ain't gotta crack the rounds
Cause when I come see you it's all daps and pounds
Smack the clowns, and if you're so hard, tell me
This homo's trapped in the closet like R. Kelly, so!

[Chorus]

[J Formz]
Formz is god on the streets, always come hard on a beat
Ayo, I spar with MC's and leave em' scarred on the beat
And when I'm feelin' like this, be sure of your direction
Or go to the pigs and start oderin' protection
It's slaughter if you step son
Cause I love to send shots, and you gon' wind up gettin' caught up in affection
I ought to be a blessin'
Cause when you ask about unsigned hype, you know Formz should be mentioned
I'm armed so don't tempt this, with stronger defenses
To calm all your senses, and all with a sentence
The track's been raped
And I don't need dough on tracks
Cause whatever I move in weight, I get back in cake
Please, you wanna come test me kid?
Let me in and I'm killin' more records then Gretzky did
Punch line after punch line man
You would think I was Fab the way the crowd was like d,d,d,d,DAM!

[Chorus]