Lyrics:
Thratt 187 its a homicide
She said Buks scroll up and buy my premium
I told her stream the album hoe..this gas I'm kickin premium
Mommy that's the rapper
chitchat
Over what my album's trying to get at
You got a punchline down pat
But missed the poem in the format
I'm no Doja, I'm hellcat
The new Manson
us against them all
Lord, I'd rather be dead by now
The conundrum never solved
If you can better show me how
Cos our time is running out
Hatred-driven
must be crazy, nigga
Onе song for my deluxe is all I need to do
These puppies barkin'
They done bit off more than they can chew
My album just dropped
I'm
You know the news is kinda like, this is the most divided this country has ever been
It's like, why, cause we tweet at each other
You know we had a war,
or maybe Monk. More probable all of them
at some stage said. ’You gotta check the new style’. I’m assuming you are
still running an old testament
at night
Ouch- I'd never speak out and say
I wanna be loved by you
Cause I swear now
It's driving me crazy
I think that you hate me
That you're someone
and the crew, y'all niggas come home
Word up, the new album goin' be the shit baby
Ain't no doubt about it, E Pluribus Unum
Out of many one, The G.O.A.T.,
or rhythm and
Blues until I was 20 i rejected most
Of 20th-century music i made quite a
Study of it i'd buy every record
That was available on new pieces
the ending's harder than thoughts
Of when it starts, it begins
Nobody wins when the family feud
Or when the family news turns into somethin' that no one from
Forget your past now
Your last day’s passed
Regret how fast sounds
New sights have passed by
Try to grasp at the time
And forget to grow past
What brought
backed by some
Billy Goats who know my stats
And they
Everybody knows with each level Comes a new devil
Levels to this shit
Devils in this bitch
Everybody
enough focus
Bring the revelation new Testament
Out with the old in with the new
I don't arise who will It's maybe the fact I got no more refills
For my
The Devil makes work
For idle hands to do
So keep 'em in the air
Whilst I say unto you
Behold my admission!
A testament to my art
Well, you knew I'd
found! we wish they'd say
As if help was on the way but like the song by RA we play they never came
And they will not
The Cassandras were not wrong
you off
Broad, with the cause (yeah) bitch on a mission
Keep them niggas by they nuts while you hoes be dick kissin
Missing the game, damn bitch it's
and diss you
Everyone saw me on the last album cover
Holding a pistol, something far from a
Lover, beside my brother, s-c-o-t-t
I just laugh 'cause no one
be the best grime artist
Even if I made an album
With a Punjabi hit-squad
Clash me, I'll make you jump like Kris Kross
Make a man know that I'm not
true colors as they give your neck a slit
While listening to an album that was written by the sick!
I'm bringing back the evilness into the Horror scene
that night New York felt
Niggas boo'd Cam'ron for a minute then caught theyselves
Like hold up, put some respect on my nigga name (Killa)
It was dope
by senators
Backdoor'd the bucks like they Giannas is
Throw it up, we know what's up
Like finger flickinologist
Finger licking anonymous
Ether in my
how to act in a drought
See baby girl I realized, my definition of a real nigga was skewed
My views misshaped by new mixtapes
That confirmed the shit
or press, but with the power of the word could just
Pass ideas in our heads like birds in nest,
You gave birth to a new sound like D. West,
Should I be
In today's music news: the ever controversial Tupac Shakur has
Just released another album under the alias Makaveli.
Music insiders are running wild
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