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I'm your Testarosa. First gear 
Watch me go  keep 'em in fear 
Rumble  young man rumble 
Brother won't fumble  muthafukas just crumble 
Gaskets crank  rappers get spank 
Stripes get yank  a superior rank 
Won't stop the jock in some American car use a lyrical radar 
But I'm rolling  the cartel's tolling 
For the D's keep folding 
Most Cadillac rappers get look and disturb 
By the jet black blur 
Me  the Testarosa running like it suppose ta 
Don't try to get closer 
Cause you might get lost in the dual exhaust 
Don't ever try to fuck wit' a boss 
High octane there ain't no ping 
When I swing on a lyrical speed king 
And that's just first gear, listen for the upshift 
Who can get wit' this 
I'm your testarosa 

Second gear, look it here queer 
I'm in here, hitting like spears 
The rhyme cartel slings legalized dope 
Some cope, others get (gunshot noises) 
Lost on the boss, it's finish is flawless 
12 cylinders listen to the horses 
It accelerates smooth 
Move or else get move 
Run for cover my brother, suckers are getting smothered 
I ?cutted? you other ?smutters? rammed in the gutter 
My rep is kept, muthafukas must step 
The best get swept and let out to rest 
Huuuu, look at that air intake 
Second gear, passing fakes 
Revolution per lyric get higher 
How can I chill when my rhyme's on fire 
As I approach the end of my tach 
My lyrical horse power blows to the max 
Red line is reached to the peak of my speech 
And I told ya, I'm your Testarosa 
Testarosa 

Gear number three, get off the clutch and don't let 'em up 
Keep 'em all down on these young bucks 
Let 'em know big boss is just a bit quicker 
Get the picture 
Backtalk tolerated none, son 
Left you at the gun when I hit gear one 
Now I'm in third and you think that's quick 
Huh, wait till I hit fifth 
Me and my pack, we keep plenty of snackpacks 
You said fat now I'm yo to the max 
Want Mix-A-Lot for your next attack 
Hey, yo, critical mass, yea, I got your gat 
Two hundred sixty pounds of pure pain 
Critical mass is my homeboy's name 
My personal trainer, taking weight gainer 
Got the bulk to crush and contain ya 
On the tach, I'm like a wind ax 
Cutting up air like Boeings aircraft 
Time to shift and let my lyrical seatbelt hold ya 
I'm your Testarosa 

Up to fourth gear, the speed increase 
Police got beef wit the word chief 
Move or lose, I excuse the wack dudes 
You light my fuse and clear out or get used 
I go 100 in a 55 
No need to lip synch, I'm straight out live 
So I'm rough lust who wanna be tough 
You fuss and cuss wearing that Raider's stuff 
Fake fools from around the way 
Knowing damn well, you ain't from LA 
Ashamed where you come from son, so you rattle 
Like it or not, I scream straight up Seattle 
Rip up streets wit a lyrical sweet 
Don't peep or creep or you lose your freak 
The cam's growl, engine loud 
My tongue keep beating 'em down 
Rev it up, get ready for fifth 
Just hit 'em wit a maximum dis 
I roll ya, fold ya, mold ya, I told ya I control ya 
And I'm your Testarosa 
I'm your Testarosa 
Yo Punish, show 'em what time it is 

Gear number five, you're eyes get wide 
So realize that I survive and I rhyme for mine 
I rope the dope and is he coming up, nope 
I ain't the joke so don't hope for my throat 
There it is, the whiz gets his 
The word quiz is what it is and Mix don't give 
Sight to the wack who act like Max 
And try to jack a pop rap to hit the map 
That ain't like me, it ain't cool 
To rob another fool them claim you rule 
You boot but not me, troops, you like juice 
So you hit the stage wearing my boots 
Uh ,uh cupcake, I ain't about to get rape by fake 
Just look at the tail light shrink and then think 
How I left you pink in a lyrical kink 
Time to drop to my gears and then stop 
'Cause I lock the box on them clowns that jock 
Turbo cone is 230 up on ya 
I'm your Testarosa(3x)

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