Initials B.R. - Automatic Four-Four (Blaster Canon) Lyrics

F*ck it, I lick off in tandem sixteens
Ignite tantrums, violent miscreant firing pristine
Pollack on blitzkrieg. The canvas is VisQueen
The paint is the grey meat. I'm slaying these MCs

Spraying these clean sheets with carnage
Dispatch targets with quicklime parlance in
Partlow rowhouse apartments, rolling bodies of work up in carpet
And dumping them in the garbage

Watch when I cop to the motive
Cock back the magnum, concoct the opus
Unlock the savage explosives and rock these
Cabbages open with accented ordnance

The marksman turns marks to carcasses
Armed to the teeth, beefing peace-keeping cordons
With a street-sweeper, carving these artists up like cadavers
Raising the bar on that 4/4 caliber

You don't pave roads to row in the same boat
You don't spray folks and mope in the pathos
You don't sleep. You don't eat
You don't take "No." You don't take "No"

You just pack (four-four) and blast (four-four)

F*ck it, I build a fire out of bat-shit; scrape brown guano out of
Caverns with a hatchet; strip the volcanoes in the
Desert with a cactus, pissing upon the mixture
Charcoal, saltpeter, and sulfur up in the tincture

Grind the black powder in the mortar with a pestle
And pack the black magic in the belly of the vessel
Grab the barrel and put a hole through your temple
With sharpened number 2 pencils implanted up to the ferrule

They put the hands in the air 'cause it's automatic
Somebody screams "Hell yeah" 'cause it's automatic
The crowd moves out of habit. Pushers take the
Credit for the rock when the crack is in the addict

I take the muzzle recoil to move butts, and this mess is
Simply a method to let you know that your number's up
You gun runners up rock stock polymer
I float steel in that 4/4 caliber

You don't pave roads to row in the same boat
You don't spray folks and mope in the pathos
You don't sleep. You don't eat
You don't take "No." You don't take "No"

You just pack (four-four) and blast (four-four)