Freestyle (Murda Mixtape Vol. 3)

How should I start this?
How should I begin?
To sin
Grab the microphone and my rhyme to win
Wheel of Fortune
Spin around
Check it out I'm not a rap clown
Get smacked down
By the fucking 4-pound
In your dome
Hit you with the nick-plate chrome
Queensbridge that's my motherfucking home
Off the top of the head yo I'm marked blunthead
Police... Police they want a nigga dead
But I'm not going out like that
Black I kick the actual facts
It's solar, cold as a polar bear
I swear, word to... Will
But I'm a chill
Rhymes a kill
Niggas know the style
When I freak the profile
Aziactic child yo

Before the money
Two for pussy and foreign cars
Three for Alize niggaz deceased or behind bars
I rap divine God check the prognosis, is it real or showbiz?
My window faces shootouts, drug overdoses
Live amongst no roses, only the drama, for real
A nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the ganja
Here's my basis, my razor embraces, many faces
Your telephone blowin, black stitches or fat shoelaces
Peoples are petrol, dramatic automatic fo'-fo' I let blow
And back down po-po when I'm vexed so
My pen taps the paper then my brain's blank
I see dark streets, hustlin' brothers who keep the same rank
Pumpin for somethin', some will prosper, some fail
Judges hangin' niggaz, uncorrect bails, for direct sales
My intellect prevails from a hangin' cross with nails
I reinforce the frail, with lyrics that's real
Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, trifle on beats
But chill bless the microphone and say peace
Those who there, kick the microphone in your hand
Kick the flim-fam

Check it out ya'll
Money and murder, money and murder
The sick shit you heard coming from money, fucking.
Mossberg, the words are poetic.
I sound energetic, when I'm blunted or Moet-ed
My microphone's upsetted
'Cause I sound crazy
Now, you know never lazy
Yo, I'm gonna get all the cash I can
Don't give a fuck if I gotta shoot a policeman
Walk in the church and snatch your fucking,
Na I can't be flipping like that
'Cause you niggas try to jock the style
But I left that shit, to get new shit, to flow like the Nile
Now you can't catch up G
'Cause I got the new styles on the M.I.C.
I keep getting newer
Can't step to.