Grime Fatt Father (Ft. Guilty Simpson, Roc Marciano & Sean Price)

[Intro: Fatt Father (Guilty Simpson)]
Killas, yeah! Y'all done fucked up now
That's right, I don't even know why I'm on this track
I called up some of my big homies
And we gonna ride on you bitch-made ass, playa-hatin' ass niggas
And we ain't even players, we're coaches, bitch! (Straight from the sewers of detroit, y'all!)
Coaches... (Simpson, get 'em, get 'em, get 'em...)
We tell you what to do! (Yo!)
Get on the field nigga! Run, RUN!

[Verse 1: Guilty Simpson]
The Grim Reaper's godson, I disarm you with that shotgun
And pop one, you're harmless, and now armless
I follow these rap artists, and drop my targets in Target
More cans than a supermarket
Paper or plastic, watch 'em fade away when I blast it
I'm a kush hit, from starting war on some Bush shit,
I make up beef and break up teeth
And charge cats to rebuild that made up-street
There's not one too big for caskets
I'm a walking hazard, I'm a straight up beast!
I make a motherfucker wake up sleep!
Warrior mode, I'm letting all you foreigners fold
I shut it down like I'm border control
Learn about it, before you get murdered 'bout it
You don't have to choose cause I kill you with the fork in the road
Motherfuckers!