Letra de ' Powaful Impak ' de Black Moon

Intro: Buckshot
Hey yo, this is straight up for all them niggaz out there
Who fronted on some bullshit in the beginning, fuck dat
(some reggae shouting)
Verse 1: Buckshot
Blaaaww! Here comes the Buckshot Shorty
I kill black real, so guard your grill like naughty
Niggaz call me Jeffrey Dahmer, why
I'm quick to bombercars
That fuck your armor, cause I cause mad trauma
No comma, straight through your mama like acid
I fucked her, then I did it, that's why you's a little bastard
You talk mad shit with no back up, what's up, act up
You punk niggaz get smacked up, word life
You fuckin' with the wrong nigga
I fuck too many on the mic, they call me daddy long trigger
Mister Buckshot, makin' the gun hot
>From niggaz that fiend to see my little ass rot
Peep my style, check my level
I'm so hot, I shot a fuckin' fair one with the devil
Booyakya!, watch your back, grab your fuckin' gat
Here come brothers who are ready to act
Chorus: [samples of Busta Rhymes]
[Powafal Impak] 4x
Boom!! [the cannon]
(Repeat)
Verse 2: Buckshot
Some pack a mac, I choose to pack a black 22
By my waistline, buckin' your whole crew
I step through, and represent Black Moon
First, before I kick a verse, I puff a bag of boo
Lyrically I freak your funk you never heard
My shit is so fly, when I kick it, it's absurd
Damn, how I wrecked your life with one record
Made your crew break up and girl get naked
Respected, because I work hard for my cash
Shakin' more flavor then Mrs. Dash
Look out below, my flow will hit your brain
I got dough, but I still hop the train
I'm bustin' niggaz open, Attica style
Yo, straight to the jugular, brother you're mad foul
Gimme dat, because I rock with the best
Yo, peace to the hardcore niggaz, fuck the rest
Chorus
Verse 3: Buckshot
Free, to the five, to the four, to the funk
I pop junk and keep the bump in the trunk
Puff the skunk and get high, Oh lord
Get on my skateboard and do a motherfuckin' driveby
You little crab ass flea
Biting my style, you know the original rudeboy is me
Buckshot, no joke, smoke a nigga like buddha
Who the fuck you think you playin' wit
Yeah, I'm sayin' it
Cause I want beef, for you can hang here right
Yo, sometimes I wonder how the fuck you get a mic
But I don't sweat that, cause I 'm still paid
Niggaz get bucked down, bitches get sprayed
I do what I want, just so I can make loot
If it's an eagle, pack the gat son
You know how we do, true
Chorus
(Assorted shout outs 'til end)