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detroit's illest - shane capone lyrics

yeah…uhhh
capone…dirty dozen
la la la la la la
it don’t matter

(shane capone verse)
we bringin 29 grams, uncut without the sack
make them gunz clap all in ya back like spinal tap
3*1*3 making this rap game an all out murder sport
send some hot sh*t sidelining thru your transport
now what the f*ck you thought, we still c*ck them bl**dy pistols
cooking all you fake mother f*ckers without the crisco
up in the mo you come up missing like jimmy hoffa
we mafia, connected to the mob like frank sinatra
what the f*ck is stopin ya from going rounds with the throwdown
i get wyatt earp up in these cowards without a showdown
i’m high a f*ck and i’m rollin right past ya
blastin ya all in that ass like colon cancer
you make money? mother f*cker we take money
breakin heads for this cheddar they ain’t sh*t here funny
why work a 9 to 5 when you can rob for twice the price
hittin mother f*ckers daily like an oakland bank heist

(swift verse)
that dirty dozen renegade, you done pulled the pin out my grenade
.38’s and move yo sh*t up out the way
you n*ggas won’t forget about mcvey, you got something to say
spit it out today and watch these slugs spray
from these 10 black fingers hugging these deadly millimeters
it’ll make jeff dahlmer’s look like he caught a misdemeanor
see i’m dirty so i don’t need to buy a pistol cleaner
an offical beater now let me see you with your heater
you’ll get whipped with it, tell them mother f*ckers swift did it
if you packin something special in your crib then b*tch get it
i’m physically fitted to run yo digits, when i’m out walkin
they get get scared of the dark just like some biggets
shooting me is like the lotto, you ain’t gone hit it
i’m a treat your skull like the red sea and split it
i got you scared of us n*gga admit it
be prepared to bust or you finished if you don’t handle your business
(chorus)

you got a problem with…
shane capone
you got a problem with…
d12
you got a problem with…
shane capone
you got a problem with…
d12

(bizarre verse)
i’m that n*ggas that you ain’t seen recent
pull out a nine, shoot up the 12th percent
i got different ways that i can get rid of ya
my d*ck burns leaving nasty clymitia
i battle 10 mc’s in my jail cell
your style’s worthless like old garage sells
f*ck around and get shot with this verbal weapon
my d*ck’s so long, f*ckin up b*tches intestines
f*ck the chrome i’ll diss you on the microphone
break out a poem break ya grandmother’s collarbone
now who the f*ck wanna f*ck with a n*gga who don’t give a f*ck
about a nasty ass sl*t…bizarre f*ck her in the b*tt!!!
look at all the drugs i’m abusing
battle me you’ll get burned like the cell phone i’m using
big n*gga from the midwest, smokin budda*zest
headed to jail for family
(chorus)

(kuniva verse)
right in the middle of your front porch i’ll take a p*ss
everybody i plan to slap yo i make a list
i tie you up, whoever wanna torture you take a shift
over your head full strength, break a brick
a fo*5 is louder then the nine ain’t it swift
rush the liquor store, i grab the forty, i got the fifth
bizarre you c*ckin the gun wrong take the clip
what the f*ck you talkin about i just wanna rape the b*tch
run in my house you smell dead bodies take a whiff
denaun couldn’t stand it, he just threw up his chicken strips
took a trip last week with this jamacian chick
tied her up and made her drink warm water and bacon bits
…i ain’t scared of ya’ll mother f*cker
then why you shakin b*tch!!!
break both of ya legs in different directions, make a wish
i got a bottle of amonia yo take a sniff
i’ll put ya album under my ass and take a sh*t

(kon artist)
i’m furious about my last date, she wouldn’t raped
they called it murder…guess i used too much duct tape
relentless with an a*k, your man dre
caught it right thru his celly while he was talkin to his mom (hey!)
i guess it’s safe to say that i love violence
s*xy, money & drugs, rap & remote islands
ok, i might just be a little out of line
by tellin you that everything that you own is mine
(but what) but i was born feet first, smoke forty and drink weed
got a fetish for f*ckin hoes til they ass bleed
with knock knees is how i leave half these b*tches
with the craft of witches, i cast spells that burn your britches
told you snitches that burning bridges would earn you ditches
but you ain’t listen now you in fetal positions missing
and you probably coulda got away but naw you had to run your mouth
and got fed to a pack of wolves like an entree
i’m still riding bikes naked and i’m never gonna stop
until i’m pulled over and frisked by a lady cop
we just a little past great and ya’ll just moving up
like weezy and george we rip mics with gin in our cups
(chorus)

- shane capone lyrics

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