Burning them, if you ain't quick and nimble
I go crazy when I hear a cymbal
And a hi-hat with a souped up tempo
I'm on a roll, it's time to go solo
Rollin' in my 5.0
With my rag-top down so my hair can blow
The girlies on standby, waving just to say "Hi"
"Did you stop?" No, I just drove by
Kept on, pursuing to the next stop
I busted a left, and I'm heading to the next block
The block was dead, yo
So I continued to A1A Beachfront Avenue
Girls were hot wearing less than bikinis
Rockman lovers driving Lamborghinis
Jealous, 'cause I'm out getting mine
Shay with a gauge, and Vanilla with a nine
Ready for the chumps on the wall
The chumps acting ill because they're full of eight ball
Gunshots rang out like a bell
I grabbed my nine, all I heard were shells
Falling on the concrete real fast
Jumped in my car, slammed on the gas
Bumper to bumper, the avenue's packed
Take heed 'cause I'm a lyrical poet
Miami's on the scene, just in case you didn't know it
My town, that created all the bass sound
Enough to shake and kick holes in the ground
'Cause my style's like a chemical spill
Feasible rhymes that you can vision and feel
Conducted and formed, this is a hell of a concept
We make it hype, and you want to step
With this, Shay plays on the fade
Slice like a ninja, cut like a razor blade
So fast, other DJs say "Damn!"
@Agonum