Artist: RBL Posse
Album: A Lesson to Be Learned
Song: Sorta Like a Psycho

(Black C)
Sorta like a psycho, a n***a just might go
Spray the whole town cuz a n***a is a Schizo
Little freaky deaks try to say a n***a mean
But I spray they punk ass with my Uzi machine
(What you gon' do that shit fo'?), lay your punk ass on the flo'
Since you wanna be captain save a ho ->
Rat-a-tat rat-a-rat rat-a-tat-tat
(Is that a cap gun?) no it was my mothafuckin mac
Or my deuce deuce, mothafucka' call it what you want to
(I call my shit a gun), well I call my shit the make-room
Motherfucka', motherfucka', motherfucka', please!
Since you're in(on) my fuckin' penis
Won't you drop to your fuckin' knees
Bow wow wow, yipee yo, yippee yippe yay
Bark like a dog and just make my mothafuckin' day
N***a, ya' fuckin' with the wrong one, psycho ass lunatic
N***a that is on one
B-L-A-C-K-C, my mothafuckin name
I put up the deuce deuce an' pull out my 12 gauge
Boom, boom, boom, I watch the n***a head fall off
Then I hit the guts with my mothafuckin' sawed off
Duck while the body rot, n***a still on the plot
But next time, I use my mothafuckin Glock
(chorus)
To the whole school gettin' wild throwin' 'em ups
-scratching- Hunter's Point, give it up smooth!

Knick knack paddy wack, give a bitch a crack sack
While I'm up in the cuts, blowin' off n***as back's
But it ain't no thang, my bitch in the dope game
And I gotta ride, kill, and maintain my mothafuckin' biz wax
A n***a's fin'a get tax, a n***a goin' mad, -BANG BANG-
They call me Mad Max
A mothafuckin' rebel (a crazy ass bastard)
Punk mothafucka' just call me Charles Manson
Tear it off bro, (man what the fuck fo'? "Give it up smooth")
Is my mothafuckin' mando
But, I see the blue and white suits wanna get me
And I'm not goin out like my boy Tony T
Bring 'em on, bring em' on, bring em', I'm finna hit the cuts
And I'm finna Shake N' Bake 'em
Tippy tippy toe to my mothafuckin' back do'
I'm finna (or feelin) straight chill wit' a fat sack of Indo
-Bitch gimme some mothafuckin' zig-zags ho-
Now I got my zig zags, 40 ounce, and watchin Mad
Shoes all muddy, and pants stain' wit green grass
But I'm not trippin, a n***a gotta kill time
Went to the closet, and pulled out my 9
Stepped with pep to the mothafuckin window
The gun in the right hand, the left one indo
But the coast is clear, I'm fin'a take a chill pill
Fuck that shit, gimme a break down before I get ill
Chorus

I'm startin off my last verse, five n***as in a Hearse
Fuckin' wit' me, you should'a seen they fuckin' head burst
Pulled out the U to the Z to the I
Punk mothafuckas weren't prepared for the homicide
Rat-a-tat rat-a-tat same damn thang
Got four in the head, and one in tha' dingaling
And if they didn't know me by now
Then they'll never, ever, ever, EVER know me
(Mr.Cee)
So you should've be listenin' from the get go
Cuz a villain on the under is about to flow
I'm a n***a that moves in silence
And I get a head rush, in the midst of violence
A lot of people don't think high 'a me
The reason: cuz I'm a product of a violent society
And that's the way the shit goes!
Why go to a wholesale when I can jack you for your dough?
And it don't matter if you're ten pounds bigger
You'll just fall harder when I pull this trigger
Yeah there's a lesson to be learned
But no one took notes, so n***as gettin' burned

Chorus