Everytime I spit it’s like a hammer spray
Each word is a bullet in the hand of ain't
Infinite ammunition in the chamber gauge
I lay down anybody within the range
Sitting passenger seat up in my nigga’s Range
Windows down and smelling like the illest strain
A six-bar metaphor comparing rhymes to gunfire. For him, each word is as deadly as a bullet, and he’ll never run out of ammunition.
As the last three lines here state, no one is safe—not in groups, nor in public. During drive-bys the shooter usually sits in the passenger seat; similarly, Oh No is prepared to murder a whole crew of rappers on the mic (from the leather seat of a decked-out Range Rover, if he must). And when he rolls down the window, you’d better believe he smells like the illest strain of marijuana.
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