Looking Down the Barrel of a Gun

[Mike D yells]

AAAAAH!

[Mike D, MCA, Ad Rock]

Rolling down the hill, snowballing getting bigger

Explosion in the chamber, the hammer from the trigger

I seen him get stabbed, I watched the blood spill out

He had more cuts than my man Chuck Chillout

Twenty four is my age and twenty two is my gauge

I'm writing rhymes on a page, and going up in a rage

'Cause I'm out on a mission, a stolen car mission

Had a small problem with the transmission

Three on the tree in the middle of the night

I have this steak on my head 'cause I got into a fist fight

Life comes in phases take the good with the bad

You bought the coins on the street and you know you got had

Because it's all high spirit, you know you got to hear it

Don't touch the mic baby don't come near it

It's gonna getcha, it's gonna getcha

It's gonna getcha girl, it's gonna getcha

Looking down the barrel of a gun, son of gun

Son of a bitch getting paid getting rich

Ultra violence be running through my head

Cold medina y'all, making me see red

Rapid fire Louie like Rambo got bullets

I'm a die harder like my kid Bruce Willis

I love girlies, waxing and milking

Coordinating shit is my man Dave Scilken

Predetermined destiny is who I am

You got your finger on the trigger like the Son of Sam

I am like Clockwork Orange, going off on the town

I've got homeboys bonanza to beat your ass down

Well I'm mad at my desk and I'll be writing all curse words

Expressing my aggressions through my schizophrenic verse words

You're a headless chicken chasin, a sucker free basin

Looking for a fist to put your face in

Well get hip get hip, don't slip ya knuckle heads

Racism is schism on the serious tip