Scorched Earth Policy

You must have a death wish to go against me Cause that's a kamikaze plot Tried to block the karate chop I hit him with three shots, he dropped Don't end up with the same fate that Tommy got Pull the Tommy Gun out and dumb out, R.I.P. Mazaradi Fox I'm way up, still my sweatsuit is Russell brand Surrounded by all this snow like Russell Brand I know Lohan gave you the upper hand Time to become a man, rubber bands to cover bands They're loving the jams, nothing but classics Burning, dumping out ash, furniture's covered in plastic And for my last trick, with one hand, roll it up in a glass tip France trips, I tip the maid extra and stretch her out Here's a French tip, trip, weapons out Leave my weed on the dresser before you leave on a stretcher All I breathe in is pressure, if you need, I'll connect you Guess they need the director, when I leave They're playing checkers now When you're the pawn you take the pendant and the chain When you're the king you take the credit and the blame Spend your life hoping they remember your name The pieces go in the same box at the end of the game It's all the same shit, waitlist long for an apology Right your wrongs, prolong the dichotomy Could call it war, thats the wrong terminology Burn the shit to the ground, this is my scorched earth policy All I see is fake G.I. Joe's making IG threats Trying to figure out where I'll be next I move like SOCOM with these TEC's, Department of Defense So calm, I seem stressed? Hold on, let me check I got my pockets so right, ain't no seams left Came from standing outside, so cold you could see your breath Take good look before you can't, bought some land Let's toast to growth, uncorking the Grand Cru I supplied what they lust for as demand grew But your life could get cut short with a bad crew Your mans caught a few and caught the hands too Shit could turn to bloodsport 'till my hands blue Blue beams, I knew since I was copping Blue Dream Dreams grew to reality, really starts to confuse things I had to make it, you're stupid to think I'm wasting my mind Calculated my movements, one space at a time When you're the pawn you take the pendant and the chain When you're the king you take the credit and the blame Spend your life hoping they remember your name The pieces go in the same box at the end of the game It's all the same shit, waitlist long for an apology Right your wrongs, prolong the dichotomy Could call it war, thats the wrong terminology Burn the shit to the ground, this is my scorched earth policy