GO!nnStep it up...nHear me, feel the funk, yeahnnI can smoke a whole eighth in a spliffnSome call that a problem but I call it a giftnHit the clutch then I start to shiftnTurn it up - light my dutch then start to driftnLost Angel, Westside ridernThe official, four-oh-five Friday, sound providernUnderground hitman, hard to hirenUnsigned death threats written in typewritersnPoetic, I'm that type of writernGot that Don't call me, I'll call you type of firenFake it 'til you make it, you're such a good liarnHeadliners used to not make the flyernFour-oh-one K, and I don't mean retirenChase loops, still war all day, I'm in denialnPeace ain't the word to play - it's violencenI ain't have shit good to say, so here's silence...nn[Chorus: cuts by DJ Revolution]nI slow flows y'all to deathnnYeah, don't stress, emotions restn'Til they wanna see my best, as good as it getsnDon't hold weak cards, don't hold regretsnPlayers, don't change past the seventh inning stretchnLearned from vets and they ain't pet doctorsnThey the type they arrest in ClockersnWe sellin out these operas, and don't mean singnI mean opera house stage we rockinnC-A, all daynReppin it, party time, excellentnIt's perfection kid, I'm not affectionatenThat's what my last girl said, too much estrogenn(I'm in trouble) Yeah, that ain't PCnBut sometimes that ain't E-V (what can I do) I just feel that waynRight now I'm on my J-O, issue payrollnSpeak in codes, 'til we reach another daynn[Chorus]nn(Ay light another one man!)nI used to be Ice-T Reckless (RECKLESS)nWild out like I'd never see breakfastnNightmares, tyin' dreamcatchersnTryin to run breathless, outta controlnI don't give orders, I make suggestionsnThen walk away! I've learned my lessons (Ev have patience)nIt's simple, they neglect itnWin at chess, still lose at checkersnThat ain't weakness, it's a death wishnChoke 'em out; another off the checklistnI came too far not to be respectednAnd drove too far to hear they closed the guestlistn(You gotta be kiddin me) A new rain out the smokin barnUmbrellas up, these cats are dogsnAnd just because it barely ever hails in L.A.nThey say I can't reign the game and hail from L.A.nThey crazy!nn[Chorus]nn[PMD]nWhen five-oh roll, they say what's the M.O.nAnother rapper was hit, by Mr. Slow FlownnBy Mr. Slow Flow {*scratched*}n[Ev] That's what they call me this year