Song Lyrics

Giancana back at y'all niggaz
This shit is bigger than killin' the President
Ignor-Entertainment up in this motherfucker y'all

It's nothing! Infrared beams laser the place
Two straps, radiate at the waist, I'm a marksmith
Them things bark man, sprayin' with haste
Shit razor gladiator your face, soakin your strip
Hoodied up, loc in the whip, pokin' the clip
Arm extended out the window, chokin' the fifth
Legend or myth seek a Taliban, hit Babylon
Don't misinterpret the smile of a Don, I'm fowl as a swan
Get at you, spit at you with ya child in ya arms
Clap at your bitch, full semi'matics eclipse
Display rage like an evil omen
Trust me in the backseat when you drivin'
I'll pop your fuckin' cerebral open
Take position when them snakes hissin'
End up nickel-plate kissin', out of state missin'
Get graveled in the battles and wars, rattle the four
'Cause cattle when you rhyme big you sound like you horse
Let's do it

[Chorus]
It's nothing! Dudes'll talk like they killers
But they eyes can't disguise the fact they really fear us
It's nothing! Them big rims on the truck
That slim hoe that you pluck? That flossin'll get you stuck dude
It's nothing! This ain't your ordinary rap
It's extraordinary scrap - Cris', pour the Henny back like
It's nothing! (What's my name?) G Rap, Giancana
No throwbacks are fitted, we own rap and spit like
It's nothing!

Five star general ranked in the game I don't respect y'all sergeants
I wreck you varmints, eject them comments, and wet y'all garments
I bank sure as the flames from out them Texas orange
Keep fresh hoes in flesh and bondage, collect and garnish
This ain't a threat it's a promise; give you a hospital bed
And a harness, reps get tarnished if you don't hit that deck
For homage and beg for your pardon, G Rap head of the squadron
Kid be sent to alarmin'; you flipped and stepped out of margin
You infuriated the Gods and the stars and
The sky's bout to thunder, you low-life come out from under
About to heat your winters and drought your summers
One right up on your fort, forty-five Colt buckin' the horse
Give your body your nuts in divorce
Dick in the dirt, you flip to the earth
Check where the hit tip grippin' the shirt
Get a flashback, flick to your birth
It's war for you morons, we wave four arms
Draw with arms, more arms and more arms and more arms
G Rap Giancana that raw Don made my bones
When I was a young buck I played with chrome
Blaze Stallone, get your brains blown, grazin' the dome
Get my stage on, the rage is on, my nigga
Yo chill G

[Chorus]

J. Ortiz, Mike Herard, Nathaniel Wilson, Vic Padilla, Victor Padilla