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Da Third Assassin

Berthuatong
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Uh-huh.

Know what time it is.

Born in the winter.

It's your boy Bert, man.

Feed you shells, I'm so considerate The fuckers, you illiterate I hop on beat to do my one-two thing Shit, knowing you was deliberate Oh yes, I'm blazing, look at them, they underestimated Every move is fire, it's like I'm playing chess with Satan After that, add the exclamation, exclamation To the top's my destination, non-stop preparation

Yeah, my name, you tried to clown on.

A year later, y'all the ones I'm looking down on.

Chris White suit the game, she got a gown on.

Behead you lame soon as they turn the sound on.

You get choice after my turn.

The flow hit classic like Hagler and Hearns.

This is a massacre with shed.

You can get your ashes or urn.

Bring disaster, I'm a master.

Lift your soul like the rapture.

Rip Lord on you bastards.

The swag is confirmed.

Shorty feelin' me fly like he's silent Polaroid, she shake it like I'm Andre

When my back to the wall, they bring the beast out.

Hand on this golden gun.

I got the streets wildin'.

I hear your heart like a stethoscope.

Niggas hate, women love me cause I'm effing dope They hating on my shine, no love, they trying to give up So I take what's mine like a subway stick-up

Method man, I bring the pain on them They don't respect the drip until it rain on them I go insane, change lanes, hit the mystery box

Headshot, headshot, I gotta aim on them.

Two of us, back to back, that max pain for them.

Everything wet like they had a hurricane on them.

Young Cacarata overflamed on them.

Like they sprayed propane on them.

Burt balking on these niggas like I smell cocaine on them.

Wild low, I drop that million dollar game on them.

From the verse to even a damn hook.

I burn everything like a bitch who can't cook.

Tell them again.

From the verse to even a damn hook.

I burn everything like a bitch who can't cook.

Yeah.

Shout out to my coalition DJs out of Tennessee Know what time it is, man

Aired out radio, Melton Mons, DJ K. Nicky, from the West Coast.

DJ Live Wires.

It's your boy, Burt, man.

Ha ha ha ha!

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