Artist: P.N.O. f/ Polite
Album:  n/a
Song:   Bundle Da Gunz
Typed by: Tha Masta

[Intro: Polite]
Uh, uh, uh-huh (P.N.O.!)
Ameri-American Cream
Live shit boy
Y'all niggas know
The same shit (uh-huh, bitch ass niggas)
(Get up off that cow boy)
Yo yo (haha)
Yo uh yo yo

[Polite]
Aiyo connect thoughts, barricade raps, pull ya mics out
Braindead con Ed head with ya lights out
Live threat, vet, deadin' all ya side bets
Slow down, you half a gram niggas ain't pies yet
Power climb, fine wine, design, respect mine
Niggas jam like a broke Tec-9, wan' test mine?
Spaz out, yo, lights like a black out
No doubt, bang it like a Blood with his rag out
Got official criminal shit from out the shit pile
Dogs just started to bark, my cats been wild
Low down to dirty, spit darts like a thirty/thirty
Smash you birdies in this rap crash derby
Unstoppable, Cream Team most honorable
P.N.O. collabo, what you thought it was impossible?
What now? Movin' on ya block like a crack vial
Where he at? King of the throne, watch him get exiled
Throw him in the bottomless pit with all the muskrats
Hit him with a slug in his back, blow out his nutsack
Quick-fast, rocks sharp enough to cut glass
Open a can of whoop-ass upon ya bitch ass
Sign it, seal it with a steel one for real dunn
Hold mine, eighty-nine style, let's shoot a fair one

[Chorus X2: Who'sane]
Cream Team with P.N.O.
Staten Isle, Crown Heights, nigga die slow
We in the bungalo, bundle up da gunz to go
Aim it at a wack track and we fumble flows
We on the humble yo

[Nazdak]
I be the street analyst, I shake off negative mist
Like excess piss in the scents of white mist
Them feelin' my kids, the mic is my dick, the track- my bitch
Make a bitch strip, stick, stimulate a clit
Hit the g-spot specific with explicit raw lyrics
Deep like the Pacific, been lyrically artistic
for as long as I existed, don't get it twisted
Nigga rewind it if you missed it
When I'm writin' I gotta be, totally, focused
Like disconnected wires from explosives
Under a bus doin' sixty with the passengers above it
Repentin', feelin' mad guilty
Screamin' "Please don't let the squad kill me"
In the rap society I'm labelled the menace
Lyrical chemist, if this was tennis
I'd be Agassi with backhands like Stratus
Let's take it to the 'Ville of Amitty
Choose your weapon, so you gon' step on
with a chainsaw to see ya blood stain the floor
Stain the floor

[Chorus X2]

[Who'sane]
Cut his skull, let his brain boil, Who'sane's raw
Line for line, kickin' cocaine in ya pores
Blood gush thru all uh-uh-uh-uh
Get you endorsed screenin' service against the sea urchen
Who flew up from the aqua, blew up ya turban
Imposter, it's curtains, we're lurkin' the surface
Opposin' the merchant's logo, NASDAQ, case worthen
Cream Team slice with guillotines to stop yo' turkin'
Regurgin', land to surface, watch for a phony diversion
Fuck if you and ya heart is hurtin'
The barrell is turnin', submergin', suburban
Leavin' y'all wetter than virgins, fuckin' burpin'
from Burboun, the urban concrete shredder
Stop foes the fuck out with steel toe ???
I kick facts and send letters
Who schooled you? The new and improved, clever
The opposite of suede ain't better than pleather
Cuz when I wet ya like six months of Australian weather
I'm guaranteed to tear ya chest up

[Chorus X2]

[Outro: Polite]
Be on the humble yo, be on the humble yo
Hahaha, Word up