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My life is trapped in these lines
That's why I'm packin these nines

I gotta rap I ain't dyin'
That's in the back of my mind
Got a strap made of iron
Can't relax on this grind
Bendin' over backwards for these slackers
Til' I'm snappin' my spine
Natural high, I gotta focus
On these bogus poachers
Lookin' over my shoulder
Proof get it poppin' like soda
Hold up (We nothin' but soldiers)
Slow up (This car and it's loaded)
Roll up (They beef n' we leaving em' cooked up)

Lyrics continue below...

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If Slim say it I spray it
If he will it I kill it
We Kilpatrick and Illich of Detroit
Y'all can feel it

Will at this gun on my waisteline
At war we dont waste time
Ja, man can't take a punch
And 50 can take nine, (BLAOW!)
We got Schoolcraft here at the 7, 8 and Dexter
I'm up in Holly spendin' dollars, ain't feelin' no pressure
Yes sir, your texture's a bitch
Betcha ya flinch, when Proof shoot up they coup
And waste your whole clique

Writer(s): Marshall B. Iii Mathers

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