The Writers' Circle

Here we go again roller coaster ride
I keep you in my mind where my thoughts are confided
I will beat you the way I beat the book.
You want  be a crook 
Stop take a look 
I  bet u got startled
Bitch you don't know me 
I swear to you 
You will be man handled. 

I come from the streets  
I reside below the sheet 
You better know that I ain't no undercover.
If you suspect me to be like that
Then you're gonna cry 
For your moms 
Scream for your pops 
Girl you don't know me
I'mma  hire you and you'll my personal caddy. 

I got Ak's and 9's 
You better get out of my way
When I spittin my rhymes. 
Droppin' my lyrics 
Cuz' I'mma kill u with my word. 
These words worse than any bullet. 
Boom shoot now you're dead
One Ak 47 bullet straight to your head. 
Now when you die 
Believe it or not 
I'mma cry I'm not gonna cry because I miss u 
But I'mma cry because I'm not gonna be able to diss you anymore. 

So I'mma bust thro the church door on your funeral wait till the priest finish pray 
Then I'mma walk up to the box cock my Glock,
And ur entire family gonna watch my bullets spray.
They gonna beg the Lord to let this criminal go away
To leave them in peace so the can feel free to walk the streets. 

But the gotta remember that when u mess with me,
You gonna be begging for a killing spree. 
Don't call the police because they not even gonna come
Not at least when they know I'm around,
I am queen.
Cant u see my crown, I wear it with pride when I'm in my prestigious ride.