Cry lyrics

[Verse 1: T-Rock]
Lord Infamous hit me up and I'm back in here
So it's the end for you n*ggas like an acronym
We roll deeper than my fans at a colosseum
n*ggas get buried and mortified in a mausoleum
Feel the wrath of a n*gga rapidly blastin' ya
My scavengers will leave you leakin' like a dirty cadaver
This is armagheddon, souls cry, it's a massacre
Protect yo neck, I'm goin' for the sh*t like I was dracula

[Verse 2: II Tone]
I ain't never liked to follow, so I always been a leader
Learn to rock it up and (?) the block and stank my Velveeta
Lord down that I'm gone, what the f*ck you mean (?)
Got a house full of guns, better pray for all yo sin
Heart cold like a freezer cause my house hot as hell
sh*t, I'm doin' what I'm doin', give a f*ck about jail
Everybody got a pound, that's a roadtrip, better follow
If you cross Black Rain you'll never see tomorrow

[Verse 3: Mac Montese]
You know we show off so everytime I go off
I crack yo f*ckin' head if you think that I'm a hoe dog
I'm with my road dogs, that's II Tone and T-Rock
And Infamous be on some more sh*t, he likes to ball off
Black Rain take change away from all these damn lames
And if you wanna play games
We leave yo ass with blood stains
You really wanna try, better be ready for homicide
I'm on a mission and get ya like I play them (?) suicide
[Verse 4: Slim Money]
I ain't scared, I ain't scared, I'm a (?) scared
n*ggas claim to be real when they really doin' (?)
It's hard to be a angel when you surrounded by demons
n*ggas tryin' to do me pain and knowin' I'm a lyrical genius
Call me ... on this road trail blaze
Catch me at the white house, outside the (?)
Get a dose of my world rage, turn yo sh*t to a (?)
Whole click murderous, you don't wanna f*ck with us

[Verse 5: Big Cheese]

[Verse 6: Lord Infamous]
BLAY!
Fill yo b*tch with this snow yo, pump her like some petrol
di*k hard as (?), nympho on some techno
Coke, snow, dope, blow, spear nose, pitch fork
Volcanic, satanic, manic flow, overdose
Trigger finger steroid flex b*tch, pressure vest
Give a f*ck less, Wild West with a Smith & Wess'
Butcher with a hooker, give yo mammy some of that sugar
I'm the man they call the boogy, call me the Jr. full of booger sugar