Texty: Dom Pachino. Power Rulez. Cripple U.

[Timmy from "South Park" sample:]
You faked being handicapped to win?

[Dom Pachino:]
Yeah, niggas stay ice grilling me, acting like they ain't feeling me
I make 'em disable, collecting social security
I dare for one sec, they try and check my credibility
My resume flawless, my mic's are cordless
Plus I, got with pharaohs, upon request, man
I represent the borough that starts with S
And you ain't got to like and respect it, ain't gotta love it, but check it
This real shit that I spit on the record
That bullshit, that you spit on the record, real hard, man
You sound like a dick on the record
I feel bad, I'm a send you a bitch in a second
While I hold it down, O.G. style, golden crown
S.I.N.Y. bound, man know the town
Bang that Napalm shit, til they know the sound
Got a new generation I'm about to expose
Man, a new breed of killas, new stable of hoes
Just graduated, from the Napalm Academy
They hate me now? Man, they bout to be more mad at me
Like a new world tragedy, we rushing in
Like there's no such thing as gradually, we touching men
Like Denzel in 'Fallen' been a long time coming
But I hear 'em calling, can't be peace and without war
Niggas stop the balling

[Chorus x2: Dom Pachino]
I'm getting kind of sick you, wanna show you what clips'll do
Nothing ain't funny, these slugs ain't here to tickle you
Splash, you see the flash, but the D's ain't taking flicks at you
It's Terrorist shit, nigga, here to cripple you

[Live Brim:]
The slugs ain't here to tickle you, they only here to rip a few
Bones right out the cartilage, show you just what the fifth'll do
Cock it, lock it, then pop it, ya'll faggots need to stop it
Talking this and that, in they raps, but where's logic
You lacking the proof, only a killa in the booth
Stories you telling, lie after lies, so where's ya truth
You ain't no three time felon, big time drug dealer
Pimping these hoes, or popping bottles at your shoes
Only crack and 40's on the corners, far as your story goes
Lying ass nigga, I see you whining ass nigga
Try and play tough, I leave you dying fast, nigga
Hear of a lion, Brim love, all I see is hats
I rep the Stat, 700 block is where I'm always at
Grab the strap, see if you build for this, the blueprint you rap
You ain't official, Lex Luger the track and leave the shit crippled
Rap is back, Lex Luger the track and leave the shit crippled

[Chorus x2]

[9th Prince:]
Yo, verbally I'm a killa
Off the charts like Michael Jackson in Thriller
Loaded guns, banana clips, cause I'm a gorilla
Hold it down, blue steel on the battle field, it's either kill or be killed
So grab ya blue steel for real, slice ya face like Seal
Let the truth reveal, yo, yo
I'm sick of ya'll, weak individuals
Coming in my cipher, with that weak subliminal
My body's free, but I'm still a criminal
So don't double cross me, I'm from the school of gladiators
Heat up shit like a radiator
Verbal Terminator, put holes in ya face like craters
Move static major, I'm all about Cash Money
Like Lil' Wayne, blood in my eye
Blood stain my Gucci frames, bulletproof Mazaratti
She's a hottie, I'm being followed, by Megan Fox in a Ferrarri

[Chorus x2]