What lyrics

[Verse 1]
It's the...
The inventor, the wicked ice cold as the winter
As n*ggas enter
The dragon, the 44 got my pants saggin'
For all the ruckus bring the paddy wagon
The terminator, the b*tch ass n*gga eliminator
The suicide contemplator
For your delusions I bring wicked disillusions
To cause mass confusion
I be the, n*gga bucka, the hood-rat, titty bar b*tch f*cka
Got n*ggas screamin' "What the f*ck!", see when
I'm down with Lord Maji, and we both yellin' die
Die n*gga, we comin' for ya
You wanna fresh style? Lemme show ya
b*tch, verbally ya never heard of the
U-N-H-O-L-Y 'cause I'm hell of a...
n*gga, WHAT

[Verse 2]
I insist, real life suicidalist
And for this I'm a white man's terrorist
I never miss when I squeeze the chrome in my fist
Mob style, I'll make your ass drink a glass of p*ss
High roller, money folder
Underground rap radio controller
The bone breaker, the thug shaker
From here to Cleveland, n*gga run run
Or catch the dum-dums
Dumb-ditty dum, do-wa-ditty
Esham, I'm from Detroit city
I flip more tactics than acrobatics
Doin' hat tricks with prophylactics
Unholy, that's what my momma told me
Now I do, all my dirt, by my lonely
And most n*ggas wanna kill you when you slangin' ki's
I clock dollars while they catch Z's
n*gga, WHAT
n*gga what...

This one right here, this one goes out to.....