triple homicide - lîl høllöw lyrics
i lyrically murder rap vets, yes, this is me, admitting that i’m guilty, while you plead no contest, my sound check, is like a bomb vest, on your chest, waiting for the det, like “are we back in nam yet?” all wet, from this spit i spray, any day, i rip away, every way, that they say, that i can’t lay of fillet, of your essay, on a tray, with green grapes, and his brain, on a plate, next to my steak, eat it medium, rare, see me come, stare, at your daugh-ter, pulling on her, hair, get em all, scared, when i rip it, tear, off her scalp, bare, so don’t you f-cking, dare, step up to me, jeffery d on a beat, raping and ripping, every feat, till they kneeling at my feet, like a f-cking god, and i will never stop, till i’m in a box, and even when i drop, my music will still c-ck, heads back like “wow, this kid f-cking rocks” so i gotta spit it hot, or i’ll never pop, up like i really want, listening to fronz, flow is liquid like a pond, you feel it like a bond, raping like i’m john, rupp and i’m on, the wreckromomicon, like a textbook in my arm, dropping it like a bomb, plunder like i’m kohn, they drowning in my c-m, i’m spitting every rhythm with precision, bars, dissing every rapper that be b-tching, hard, take em out the land of the living, far, racing all these rappers better quicken, start, leaving all their livers in the kitchen, chard, every rapper stuck inside my vision, tar, so high up in the sky that i’m gripping, stars
you can tell just by the way i spit or sing, i’m bound to be a king, and how i can demolish these mics like no thing, and only at the age of 15, hold up, run up on a motherf-cker hearin a ‘pow’ like a comic book, i’m choppin em up in the dust with a piece of violent work, wrapping em up motherf-cker wit a few adoral or perks, better spit those words or turn it into a verse, the only way it could get worse is if i shoot first and leave your dead body hanging from the church homie, i’ll lunge wit a crunch and i’ll break ya neck, i’m so spun grab my gun and the vapor pen, i’m havin fun better run from me again, running up on a punk that sh-t makes me grin, on a few bumps from my slum best let me it, better duck or jump when i pull the pin, off this riddalin, vicodin, to accompany the p-10, in the deep end, it begins, i frequent, releasing these demons
1ûpk, all f-cking day, yo lemme step up on the beat and i’ll kick a rap straight, bong rip, no soft sh-t, you coughing, no talking, i’m off in, this darkened, part then, i’m sparking, you barking, at a pit bull, too simple, i’ll rip you, up into, a million, inc-mbents, over this, if you thinkin you the sh-t, then i’m diarrhea, nice to meet ya, i’m a creature, not your feature, i done beat ya, coming at em like a heat seeka, but they ain’t hot, cause i’m so cold, but i’m still hot, what’s the temperature yo? if you thinking that you got it on lock, motherf-cker better meet my skelaton key, murdering every beat, n0body can get my style down to a t, like abc, then f-ck all that, its nothing less, than murder in the fifth, when i’m murdering a fifth, of korski-rohephnal, of course he-rape you all, on caracen-light you all up, when i write you all up, flowin like a suicide bomba, coming like osama when i hit the marijuana everybody be a gonna ain’t n0body wanna sauna wit the bonga
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