DJ Cheapshot - Bleach lyrics

[Verse 1 - Tak] Yo, swing the sword for the cla**ic year Bring the noise with your hands up, slash and tear You can't fathom asthma, dash for air Spittin' on the baby bib in the plastic chair What's up stupid? (Shoot this) 1-5-1 in the shot gla** (Hot flash) Bangin' on the drum, huh We cause havoc down in Las Vegas Paper trails racing, Pelican briefcases We outrageous, name the streets gave us Yeah, we got flame, but now we heat blazers [Verse 2 - Ryu] I let 'em all fly, ten in the clip, one in the chamber Thumbs up, another banger Untuck the flamer, dumbf** It's like gettin' with a dumptruck Brains and guts Maim, cut, aim, duck, same stuff Get you cracked up like c**aine, heat 'em up Okay, I'll let a s**a's fly once Face down, found him in his Cap'n Crunch [Verse 3 - Tak] Uh, malpractice - a bang-off jam I joust rappers and track in the radar scans Flip beats for the crew like fleets and platoons Reach for the moon like Reese Witherspoon, uh Don't stop the sure-shot, the rooftop anthem Blast the gold box, co*k back the cannon What's up partna, I got ya (what, what) Hope that "rah-rah" crack the piñata Slap, box, mouth of backwash Teeth mashed up on the asphalt, ya dig? [Verse 4 - Ryu] Set the pace like a mustang, mashin' Up the stakes, who wanna cut the cake, I take cash Dropped on a blood-stained mattress Stop, you ain't got access, watch I'mma change my accent, Ryu and Tak You little c*nts in the game, you can s** my co*k And lay flat on the ground, don't make a peep If you want the stains out now, get the bleach [Hook] Guess who's got the rubber gloves and the bleach? Guess who's rockin every club, that's me Get so hot, you feel the buzz in the streets Keeping it knockin', Jay drop that beat Guess who got the group name on top? S.o.B. got the rap thing locked Who want what, when, why, and what not Who got next up, Ryu and Tak [Verse 5 - Tak] Yeah, here it comes, all you hear is a click Bloody brains on the sand was like Miracle Whip While the blood keeps gushin', relish and pink mustard, huh I'mma slam till I tear it to bits Till the bell for the recess rang On the defense game You feeling grilled like P.F. Changs Hopscotch on the corpse till I drop the torch And burn crews for their views that'll rock with force Sayin, don't stop the sure-shot, the rooftop anthem Blast the gold box, co*k back the cannon What's up y'all, we don't stall Come one, come all till we drop the ball like [Hook]