[Intro: C-Rayz Walz] You're listening to W-A-L-Z. And Jack Frost is bringing it down on your a**. And you know it's hard to make moves when Jack Frost is, is... bringing it down on your a**. Pause... [Hook 1: C-Rayz Walz] (x4) I love hits (Love, yes, I knew). I knew [Verse 1: C-Rayz Walz] I take charge of my post, sit on property and mules The foundation principle is a continued truth Walk my post in a manner always alert So I don't get quiet or hurt, for what it's worth I report all violations of orders I'm instructed to enforce across the border If I needed water, dying of thirst and couldn't breathe I'm to quit my post only when properly released Talk to no one, except in the line of duty The illest cutie with the fattest booty looking groovy Face saying, “Sex me! Sex me, s**y!” Ain't gonna be worth not getting that check next week Directly or inadvertently watch for people purses And spark conversations with no direction for certain Allow no one to commit a nuisance on or near my post And when my shift's over, soldier, I'm ghost [Hook 2: C-Rayz Walz] (x4) Radio, check. Post 3, I need a visual Five-by-five. I'll be there, six mics [Verse 2: C-Rayz Walz] While you scream, “Why me?!?” My ninjas'll be screaming, “Why, you!” A Street Fighter—they be calling me “Ryu” The Black Samurai slash your staff with a haiku Spiteful, there's a new voice saying, “They don't like you” When I speak rounds (Nah), I ain't talking circles The blueberry pounds have you clowns often purple Pick your face up, tie your shirt, bu*ton your speakers Tucking your cheeks make you sweeter than Easter, meaning: I need to go under your durag, crush your weight with the heater Leave shells on your face like you fell asleep on a beach ‘Cause I was knocking that thing when I heard a big knock at the door Next thing you know, I'm popping a four Rocking it raw. Art of war for my ninjas that starving and poor Sleep today, wake up tomorrow Talk fast, walk slow, pause in cash Fools die for a**. Your spoiled p**y collides with math [Bridge: C-Rayz Walz] The time to my father's eyes, chat with a burned tongue Say, “I got a show in town,” just to make the girls come/cum I'm over your head, you under my arms I'll piss in your face—you loving the taste, drinking it all Lord, kid from East Bay, flicks for eBay Chicks on E, they think they need me Showers for April flowers, cowards All I need is a DJ for D-Day [Verse 3: C-Rayz Walz] Full of beats and cuts, here's my DJ's rhyme I'm The CW—Walz writes all the time Every line's a crime, every paragraph's a case In this trial attributed to life in the first place In the first place, too much Donna Summer Ghetto lifestyles wild, filled with drama, Hummers Inhale the crack, contact. Casualties in stacks For record contracts—that's the knack P'd off. Now there's too much detours To be absorbed and ignored by the playground clown Homie, don't play that. Fall back, spray rounds Blaze tracks. Hey, that brother just got gunned down I know this crack baby has a Franken run This crack baby has no teeth, chewing gum This crack baby has no moms, pops, or home This crack baby has AIDS that's full-blown This crack baby... there's too much crack babies It's seems like, under pressure, all we do is crack, baby It amount to madness. Money is a cough I found There's a devil of a flu going around [Hook 3: C-Rayz Walz] (x2) d**h keep testing me, life keep stressing me You know the recipe: cook or be cooked God blaze yellow pages, His son wrote the book Get the point. That's the hook, chorus