Proof - Oil Can Harry (Benzino Diss) lyrics

Salam Wreck! (Derty Harry is dead)
I'm here to announce that Derty Harry is dead
Now we witness the rise of the son
Oil Can Harry, the Boss hahaha (Wreck)

My life is trapped in these lines
That’s why I’m packin' these nines
I gotta rap, I ain’t dyin'
That’s in the back of my mind
Got a strap made of iron
Can’t relax on this grind
Bendin' over backwards for these slackers
'til I’m snappin' my spine
Natural high, gotta focus
On these bogus poachers
Lookin' over my shoulder
Proof get it poppin' like soda
Hold up, we nothin' but soldiers
Slow up, this gun is loaded roll up
They beef and we leavin' ‘em coked up!
If Slim say it, I spray it if he will it
I kill it
We Kilpatrick and Ilitch of Detroit
Y'all can feel it
Real as this gun on my waistline
At war we don’t waste time ja, man
He can’t take a punch and 50 can take nine
(brrrah)
We got Schoolcraft here at the 7, 8
And Dexter
I’m up in Hollis spendin’ dollars
Ain’t feelin' no pressure
Yes sir, your texture is bitch
Betcha you flinch
When Proof shoot up that coup
And wet your whole clique
Fuck it, who's next from this
Shit? This is breakfast time, bitch!
When you brothers is stiff as
Slugs exit ya wig
You'll be next to BIG, Pac, it's destiny kid
Before ya lid get popped, stop testin' me
Bitch!

Homie, you think you tough? (What?)
Think we won't fuck you up? (Punk)
Even the innocent get pistol-whipped
By this pistol grip (Punk)
Talkin' shit, you drunk? (What?)
Think I won't fuck you up? (Punk?)
We both deep
I ain't scared and I don't give a fuck
(Jump)

I ain't fail no games, homie don't even try
We ain't bowin' down to no one
We gon' start a riot (yeah)
Heart of fire, soul of ice, roll the dice
See what you get no advice all my life
I ain't leavin' this bitch
I'm a man, I'm holdin' my ground
Unloadin' these rounds
At any clown approachin' my crown (brrrah)
I'ma keep it grimey
Nothin' but killas seen behind me
I'ma bully fully 'cuz your team is tiny
If I was to crush you
God can’t save you Bibles are nothin'
This rifle I'm clutchin' to leave
You stifled on crutches, hah
I fight for my cousins
That ain't even related
Even I'll state it now
From life I leave you bleedin' and faded
Hatin' made in my nature
I'm clappin' and clackin' your captain
Smackin' faggots and act as a
Rapper with platinum status
Ya liver flappin', I'm slappin' 'em backwards
Half of these rappers' status to shadders
Knowin' Proof and the Mathers
Has gathered an army
It's Shady bandanas, after us the game is one
Who in the matters get
Plain-fashioned brain damage
The name that some forgot, D12
It ain't hard to feel, guard ya grill
It's real!

Homie, you think you tough? (What?)
Think we won't fuck you up? (Punk)
Even the innocent get pistol-whipped
By this pistol grip (Punk)
Talkin' shit, you drunk? (What?)
Think I won't fuck you up? (Punk?)
We both deep
I ain't scared and I don't give a fuck
(Jump)

Yeah, Big Proof! Grown Man Shit!
Shoutout to Mark Hicks, Jimmy Neutron
Mario, Skinny Boy Graphics
You know what I'm sayin'?
Firstborn, everybody up at Iron Fist
DJ Salam Wreck, let's go!