Slap Boxing - Sean Price, Rock, Ruste Juxx

My son got a gun, I say shoot, that’s where the gat’ll spray

Make these faggot niggaz go that a way, run

Your fab five is jumping, big knives, guns, bats and sticks

Fuck all that rapping shit

Give a fuck about your bar with the verse, put pa in a hearse

Best bet is throw your car in reverse

You can act up if you want, clapped up in ya front

Pull ya chest and ya back, skit left hooded laugh

Y’all niggaz do the row when I rhyme

Matter fact use a gun when I rhyme, yo I throw shots from the back of the rover

Chickenwing Bob Backlund, that tag on your sofa

Niggaz actin’like they don’t know Sean, til I Run up on 'em, smack 'em up with the fo’fo nam

Focus the fire, throw shots, hopin’you die smokin'

Alot after the toast is retired, motherfucker

Yo, fucking with Juxx, you already know what crime it is Hard body beat breaking, that's what kinda rhyme it is Kingston Ave., you already know who grind it is Black beretta, special opt, that's what kinda nine it is Body the wax

, first I grab 'em by the neck

Then I throw the sawed shotty to back

Cold blooded, black hearted, swing the mac retarded

My weed clientele, excel my crack market

Shawshank swangeler, monster track mangler

Wild cowboy, two hosters on my wrangler’s

Barbarian, I’m a savage, street viking

Bullet street striking, faster than grease lightning

Spit volcano, rain, hail, fire

Cuz misery sell millions, and pain sell hater

Fiend for the foam, my throne is indestructable

Niggaz like 'word, son, them niggaz cant fuck with

you'

Aiyo, I kick the ground when I walk

I mean that shit get towned when I walk

The pound, and they get be down for ya thoughts

They be on the ground with the thoughts, have ya thoughts

All over the ground in the park, make a sound when I talk

Shhhh, it is the greatest, underrated MC

Niggaz hate but don’t say it to me, they get caste in the three

The move that you making is peace, ready to Jason, is to be like

Damn, keep these niggaz away from the grease, please

Bad news, gun click;

you die, yo You want good news, switch to Geico

A nigga fight me, he getting his eye closed

And the shots don’t knock you pa, don’t get Rock

Don’t think I don’t know?

Huh

Your cubix are corny, as corny as the green calling ya team corny

Ya whole fleet boring, born with a heat seaking pistol

Locked on nigga jaw piece

For talking that 'I can give and talk and see'

Boy something like a phenomenon

That’s why, some shit’s like a feel arm my strong

It’s like the lifestyles of the rich and the famous

Bitch, they get used to rhyme and stunt, they wanna give it the anus

And bring it down, now, wow, how bout, fuck it Let 'em chow down or get what’s out bout, wild out

Have it come to the heaters, down south

Roundhouse, any bitch, you get caught in a brown route

Brownsville!