Barry Horowitz

Yeah, the chocolate T.A

Bronsalinio yeah

To the back with the hat, lean back in the 'llac

Crack the window, hear the soldier styles and that in back

Ain't no "Cat in the Hat, " just a cat that can rap

This is Bronson - representing Flushing, Queens on the map

Yeah - heavyweight primate with a Harvard mind

Blunts filled with the citrus mixed with orange lime

Pussy drip when the thought of Action come to mind

Born to ride, winter spring summer shine

Bonafide, eyes wide, run and hide

You don't want the revolution to be televised

Terrorfied from the Arab mountain death camps

With the iron burning hot, give you chest stamps

Phone calls with the cloth over the mouthpiece

With or without leaf, burn about an ounce chief

To the neck like a razor for the stubble

Raised inside the struggle, blazin in the huddle yeah

Dig a hole, throw the lamb in it

Left the slippers in the sand motherfuckers couldn't stand in it

("Someone took the words to my song")

It's Barry Horowitz rap, I pat myself on the back

Don't fake the funk on a nasty dunk, Shaq I attack

Close the window to your soul, weed inside my lungs burn

These old suckers gettin placed into a young urn

Specialized like the little bus

Use my chubby little finger first to stimulate the clitoris

King Kong ain't got shit on us

I'm out here gettin it for real while you motherfuckers filibust'

Weed in my finger flicker, I'm on a solo mission

Started at pole position, eyes on the long division

As it burn my thumb, I roll another one

Quite persistant, that's why they call me my mother's son

Shoot the cold gift, leave your ho stiff

Make your ho sniff Hootie and the Blowfish

Obey the coke king

Cause every motherfucker in rockin loaded, I'm on that old shit!

("Someone took the words to my song") (2x)

"Barry Horowitz, always likes to pat himself on the back"