[Kleptomaniac]
Lyrical wizardry dances on MC´s like Murray on SC´s
Never flaunt, now motherfuckers come test me
Burnin´ everybody hotter than torches at Jamaican parties

Far from angels, niggas can´t see me like Charlie
Style weak? Hardly!
Don´t let the wacked pursue you like Marley
JM clique moves in packs like whities on Harleys
Niggas get injured, fucked do´ in 40 fingers
Got bitches by bike-by, bussin´ Glocks off a´ ninjas
Klep don´t give three shits to flip scripts
Dismiss bullets from clips, leave niggas rollin´ up skateboards
Wit nuttin´ under they hips, bitch, so if you test me
Shit gets messy, bustin´ .38 speci
Outta paper bags like Joe Pesci
Yo, you know the tune
Make sure bitches don´t eat when it´s time to shit out them coke balloons
Bocked up the ninja when it got shady, now I got grown ladies

Bustin´ .380´s outta E Class Mercedes

(Hurry the fuck up bitchm, get on!)
(Fuck you motherfucker let me out this L)
(There they go right there, dot them niggas)
(Motherfuckers!! *gun shots*)

[Kleptomaniac]
MC´s get cut like glass, cut like class
Rag tagged and crashed, airbags couldn´t save dat ass
Who wanna get broke the fuck up? Tell me!
Freakin´ vocabulary like Chinese in spelling bees
T-P-E-L-K held to reflect the devices
The nicest, Jesus Christ´s
Junior Mafioso, niggas get torn off head to torso
Bullets evacuated out windows
From Heckler & Koch, P7M8´s

Extra .380 on a string ´round my neck cos feds check the waist
No time to waste, grab the loot then escape before next break
Heads are clockin´, private eyes are watchin´
Nigga caught up in the hustle
Fuck flippin´ packages and tyin´ up bitches´ minx and rings I bubble
Trouble´s what I look for in stores on expensive floors
[?]-boostin´ [?] bookin Pelle´s in my drawers
Armani, Gianni Versace, V2
Lost count o´ all the loc sections me and mans ran thru
It ain´t hard to discard cans of mace on guards
Leave them bitch ass niggas screamin´ like a fuckin´ retard
Lyrically I come off like ink alarms

Got styles under the wing like sweaters booked under my arms
Niggas couldn´t see me with closed circuit TV
Tryin´ to peep my steez, like DT´s I get over like I´m fifteen

(Hey, you´re not fifteen)
I´m fifteen, what?
(What do you think we are? Assholes or somethin´?)
Fuck you! Soundin´ like that nigga from Night Court
Loose my cuffs I´m outta here!

[Kleptomaniac]
MC´s be fake like toupes so I transplant
Implant my fist to their face makin´ their skin raise

Soundwaves disrupted, they fucked kid!
Earholes, blood erupted, but that ain´t nuttin´
The best is yet to come
MC´s get strung like heads on drums
They don´t be knowin´ what I´m knowin´
Flowin´ like I´m flowin´
Makin´ motherfuckers take nose dives like 747 Boeings
Obnoxious, beef-squashers, face-to-face
Niggas get wet up like galoshes on Klep´s place
Thru the hard time sayin´ prayers committin´ crimes
Sick minds don´t care, rockin´ parties from front to rear
Brains engulfed by ferocious thoughts, it´s on!
Runnin´ up on Big wit Lex wit napkins doused with chloroform
Livin´ in a world where you do what you must

If preachers be robbin´ niggas who the fuck can you trust?