Kool G Rap, Joell Ortiz - It's Nothing lyrics

Giancana back at y'all niggas
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 misinterpretate 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 gravelled in the battles and wars
Rattle the four
Cause cattle when you rhyme big
You sound like you horse let's do it

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 ho that you pluck? That
Flossin'll get you stuck dude
It's nothing! This ain't your ordinary rap
It's extrordinary 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 seargeants
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 mo-rons, 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