Grits: Don't try this at home

"You Have Agreed, Not To Try This At Home. Anything Else"[Proof]Who am I?I'm a basterd, I stolen off ya and blast at yaSmokin' more blacks than the part time wars in AfricaI'll ?? out the martyrs for beefRest in piece alot of you reef(?) designing your greefBy snatchin' your brother, smackin' your loverParalizing your cousins, smokin' your mother's husbandsA dozen chosen showguns to shotgunsRoll up on you with no guns but still pop oneI bomb like napalm from the curb to your houseAnd "Please God" the last words out ya mouthNo affiliates, just dogs and troopsMost lyin' death than this morgue and rootsAll we choose to beef, I bring spatulasFlip it and throw it back at ya, so bring your gat with yaSpectacular murder manufacturer, fuck binacularOnly heaters talkin, I'm trappin ya just to flattin yaHop in the accura, roll up on the back of yaChill out in 5, and then them niggaz act aliveI smoke branches from off the tree topsI hang with real niggaz, PA's, PK's and Pete RockY'all niggaz with pre-ops, spill blood and ReeboksDon't discriminate blastin rookies on the e-box(?)Your streetforce envolves just for excitementLike if you wasnt you never heard of enditementI sum it up quick so that you can understand meFuck you, your crew, your bitch and your whole family[Bizarre]Bizarre's a villin, bitch I ain't illinI'll pull your fucking head off while your ass is winddillin'Go heads the triggers of the penot scott villian(?)Vericons(?) march, atleast shoot a millionDirty Dozen the first week? at least a billionIf not, it's back to robbing and stealin'Bizarre's the illest, the shitty is the worstA thousand dollars for any nigga that can last longer than a verseAnd what's the worst is I don't give a damnOffer Garth Brooks a stolen grand amCome to your record label, take all your doeTake your rap name and have your manager booking you showsI don't gove a fuck if we don't get alongBitches know my name without the Slim Shady song, bitch..We in this bitch with DJ ButterWho gives a fuck?We in this bitch with Wallstreet and we don't give a fuck about nothing"You Have Agreed, Not To Try This At Home. Anything Else?"[Royce Da 5'9]Yeah yeah..What's my motherfucking name? Royce Nickle NineA messiah of all, much higher than y'all, undeniably rawQuick to blow the fuck up and reform againThe bomb threat re-occured, re-warn your menI promise you get toared up and re-torn againNot one slur or word will be re-born againAs long as the shit cracks and they turn a loop upI spit it until it's pitch black and burn the roof upBetter step the fuck up for the shit getting spitTurns to whips getting lit, turns to tick-tick-tickNiggaz be rapping just for the clubs, just for the loveThat hit you had in the club sound like shit in the truckThat's why I love that nigga X, cause he raised my browWith every rhyme, without having to take my styleIt'll be a cold day in hell when these two soldiers lay in hellTalk to me[Billy Nix]Billy Nix, I'm really sick of this silly shitRappers, get on the mic, swearing they're really spitBut you really fake, tough guy stop at your thirty-eightDrop your gloves and get taped, stop with your murder rateAlot of kids listening to youWishing they you, wishing they was in a position with you to piss on their crewButtfuck all your sickness, we got the medicineI'd rather piss on the capital, shit on the presidentX-Government, still flowing, still showingI know where you niggaz come from, know where you niggaz goingWe was all raised in the same dangerous cellUnderstand I ain't a stranger to hell, I just don't like itRappers say the same thing getting retiredSo I write something I like and pray that you bite itTake an old gangsta rapper and make him retireTake a young conscious rapper and keep him inspiredBlack man, where you at man, take a standThey taking this rap shit like they took our landFuck America that's right, you ain't hear me stutterWallstreet, Dirty Dozen with DJ Butter