Powaful impak

Intro: buckshot
Hey yo, this is straight up for all them niggaz out there
Who fronted on some bullshit in the beginning, f*** dat
(some reggae shouting)
Verse 1: buckshot
Blaaaww! here comes the buckshot shorty
I kill black real, so guard your grill like naughty
Niggaz call me jeffrey dahmer, why

I'm quick to bombercars
That f*** your armor, cause i cause mad trauma
No comma, straight through your mama like acid
I fuc*** her, then i did it, that's why you's a little bastard
You talk mad shit with no back up, what's up, act up
You punk niggaz get smacked up, word life
You fuckin' with the wrong nigga
I f*** too many on the mic, they call me daddy long trigger
Mister buckshot, makin' the gun hot
>from niggaz that fiend to see my little ass rot
Peep my style, check my level
I'm so hot, i shot a fuckin' fair one with the devil
Booyakya!, watch your back, grab your fuckin' gat
Here come brothers who are ready to act
Chorus: [samples of busta rhymes]
[powafal impak] 4x
Boom!! [the cannon]
(repeat)
Verse 2: buckshot
Some pack a mac, i choose to pack a black 22
By my waistline, buckin' your whole crew
I step through, and represent black moon
First, before i kick a verse, i puff a bag of boo
Lyrically i freak your funk you never heard
My shit is so fly, when i kick it, it's absurd
Damn, how i wrecked your life with one record
Made your crew break up and girl get naked
Respected, because i work hard for my cash
Shakin' more flavor then mrs. dash
Look out below, my flow will hit your brain
I got dough, but i still hop the train
I'm bustin' niggaz open, attica style
Yo, straight to the jugular, brother you're mad foul
Gimme dat, because i rock with the best
Yo, peace to the hardcore niggaz, f*** the rest
Chorus
Verse 3: buckshot
Free, to the five, to the four, to the funk
I pop junk and keep the bump in the trunk
Puff the skunk and get high, oh lord
Get on my skateboard and do a motherfuckin' driveby
You little crab ass flea
Biting my style, you know the original rudeboy is me
Buckshot, no joke, smoke a nigga like buddha
Who the f*** you think you playin' wit
Yeah, i'm sayin' it
Cause i want beef, for you can hang here right
Yo, sometimes i wonder how the f*** you get a mic
But i don't sweat that, cause i 'm still paid
Niggaz get bucked down, bitches get sprayed
I do what i want, just so i can make loot
If it's an eagle, pack the gat son
You know how we do, true
Chorus
(assorted shout outs 'til end)