For some little hit money, I'm dealing inside,
If you're one of those who makes squeals youse gets died.
Inside five to twenty, for some say I did,
They die in big house where I host a shiv.

They call me the scalpel, (yeah) in pen hit men know,
I'm a man void emotion, who makes rat-tlings go-o.
Must do goomba "Dutch", so it's the grease I'll put to,
Soon stiff he'll be gone; it's just what I do.

And I can hit anybody, so says our mob,
My charge was quite simple, they had 'em no gun.
The jury did find,
The jury did find, though I'd spoken no words,
DA wants full life term - twelve to twenty months serve.

I don't act a goof; don't tick off the boss,
While I do the Don service, when they caught me they tossed.
So I'm one don't quite mind, cause I won't be here long,
It's the people I do, who peeped I turn on.

No excuse the forgetting 'bout "our thing" lips glue,
They're smellin' of rotten as they scream I put screws.
Any day the door swings and I'll be out clean-an-an,
I'll get the sweetest prize, whats ever seen.

Cause I can smell anybody who does us wrong,
Just like a squeezed pimple, they will get done.
I may be confined,
I may be confined, but I'll put down the hurts.
Some stumble fool lifer, I'll take out this world.

And though I'm confined,
And though I'm confined, you'll be hit for your words,
This underworld life is my entire world.