No Sequel

DustySkidz

I've been looking through my old rhyme books, and picking out the best of my old stuff. Here's one of them.

Tell me who the $$$$ are ya?
I'm gonna buck at ya,
I ain't got my gun, so you get a knife stuck in ya,
Y'all too easy,
You ain't even a test,
I got blood on my shirt and my homies is set,
Yet,
I don't hurt women, and I don't hurt babies,
And if I ever did, I'd expect God to slay me,
But he don't mind you dying, cos I ain't dead yet,
So skull meet bullet, I think it's time that you met,
And shell meet stomach,
And slug meet chest,
I'm laughing as I'm blasting and I'm smokin' some sess,
Weed, weed, yes sir please,
I get mine flown in from the West Indies,
But times were hard, once times were rough,
I couldn't get green, All I smoked was puff,
I hate that $$$$,
Especially when it burnt my fingers,
And it ain't got any flavour,
I need a taste that lingers,
And you can take it as a fact,
That I want smoke Crack,
I won't take Pills,
I won't ever do Smack
And the only thing that I'll smoke apart from my weed,
Is your ass mother$$$$er,
Now it's time to bleed!
I'll shoot you in the head and leave a hole you can see through,
I gotta Sixth Sense, Cos all I see is dead people,
I be on point, just like a steeple,
The Grim Reaper's waiting over there,
So I'll try not to keep you,
You tried your best,
But your best was just feeble,
So $$$$ it, Goodbye punk,
There's---no---sequel.