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every bullet - slik jack lyrics

verse 1

i be dat k!ller wit the best death quotes, hoodies and trenchcoats
sport a fresh new york mets vogue, expose my neck gold
official from the get*go, stab you in ya middle like an egg yolk
bl**dy hands and baggy pants, timberlands, that’s dress code⁷
my piece is… my personal jesus like depeche mode
bad ta the bone, that’s what the test showed
rollys on the wrist, brand new whips splashed wit bullet holes
motorola flips sendin’ bl!ck pics to hoodlum hoes
i do it all witta hood approach, roll kush and smoke
mannerisms always lookin’ dope, i’m cookin’ bro
sport the o.g. b*tters, knife in my northface
lookin’ guilty at my court dates, i don’t support jakes
bro, you don’t know broke, tap water in cornflakes
standing up to me is like standing in back of horse legs
on the block robbin’, don’t come here vloggin’
got bl!cks by the hip, witta clip, like a walkman
been on the strip clockin’, rockin’ hoodies from walmart
we mentally and weaponry in a whole different ballpark
loose tobacco in my shoe in the back of a cop car
if i got the toaster on me… it’s not for a pop*tart
carvin’ names on every bullet in the clip
rollin’ trees wit bible pages in a motel withcha b*tch
when you got bars like this, it’s like you written ’em wit shivs
i wear all the hats in this biz, like bought out the lids
hook:
carving names on every bullet in the clip
carving names on every bullet in the clip

verse 2

thugged out, since a cub scout! serial sanded off the barrel
and the raw potato twisted on da gun snout
pay up or wake up in the e.r. by a blood pouch
i’m known for shooting off caps like i was kung lao
blessed to be above ground, grew up round some savages
whole crew packin’ ankle bl!cks and movin’ packs of cannabis
stick*up kids, sn*tch ya b*tches’ rings, chains, and anklets
guaranteed .25 to life next time the gavel hits
handle biz like a fly pimp where the crack hoes live
big apple drip, drown a pig like it’s battleship
m60 wit the camo print, life’s a rambo fl!ck
stabbed you in the head when i punched you in da afro pick
criminal minded since i’m yea high, no recollection of my youth
except the stench of old st. ides
clutch the shotty, catch a body like a stage dive
these bl**dy air force 1’s used to be plain white
clip a mothaf*cka like a fake tie, meet the reaper
follow mothaf*ckas in the late night, squeeze the heater
scr*p hard, gang starr, step in the arena
sn*tch ya broad, bank cards, plus i robbed ya sneakers
hook:
carving names on every bullet in the clip
carving names on every bullet in the clip

- slik jack lyrics

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