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[Teflon] Turn me on - let the bomb drop from Comstock to Oakland Keepin it potent (Teflon) hand 'em and leave 'em soakin I'll excite you, no tellin what this rap disciple might do Fire from my Desert Eagle, spark is light blue Action, it's the black rap "Fatal Attraction" Off the wall, back up off this mic, you can't get jack son Rep on every coast and keep the streets overdosin Skeet off when I jack on tracks without the lotion No con see, my entrepeneurs got the sewers locked I do your block, at "5 O'Clock," +Nonchalantly+ Hi-tech styles, break the x-file, co-projectile In half, fatal paragraphs from the next child I flex this ambidextrous style, inject this dope Up in the mic makin the blood type infectious Respect this, I'm well amongst the nicest, precisest Kid y'all niggaz couldn't follow with trackin devices Yo I know a hundred brothers wondered what I come with be the real, bomb shit you feel in the pit of your stomach Exact with my tactics, shit pack blue steel Rap with a tamper-proof seal so niggaz can't tap it Kid, it be the hell-raisin gun-blazin whacked out the rain Young blood all the ghetto Dunns be praisin Teflon, the next Don they say With Grade A quality raw raps, dope that ain't been stepped on Songtexte[Chorus: x2] Hey yo Tef! (what?) Show these motherfuckers where we at! From B-Ville to Beverly Hills, we keep it fat From way down in Texas to Kansas I got this, I lock this, fuck that, this is my planet [Teflon] Fuck the nonsense, I been the bomb since niggaz was playin skelly I put one in your belly, and leave my palm prints on the biscuit Fuck these niggaz actin like they live shit Dunn these niggaz ain't bustin no guns, son they misfits Strapped with, my M.O.P. rapid fire squad Ready to try your card cause we don't buy that hard image you practice Let the record reflect, these raw deal niggaz call real shotblock, make the Hilltop hot, we draw steel Without a shadow of a doubt, I blow somethin Push my gun in silly fake Willies that's holdin dough, frontin We on the frontline, come get it if you want mine Hilltop Strangler, hang in the car, when it's crunch time Somebody school these clowns on how we get down Blast my sounds while passin through international ground Yo, we represent the ghetto youth Drinkin 151 proof, shit slangin metal with my fellow troops I'm still up on the map for those who thought I was slackin I'm too real, packin blue steel, makin it happen That's why they come from all over to see me My cranium expose high levels of titanium when mics are near me Or could it be my clinically deranged, insane bring the pain style that have these niggaz actin timidly If reality, if you beef me with my cattle G Then fuck a son bring on your guns and your cavalry [Chorus x2] Aus Songtexte Mania