 |
|
4:22 | 
|
||
| from Killer Mike - Monster (2003) | |||||
|
|
4:05 |
|
||
| from Killer Mike - Monster (2003) | |||||
|
|
4:12 | 
|
||
|
from Killer Mike - Monster (2003)
(Killer Mike talking on the phone)
Aight... so you niggaz wanna know how a nigga is up in jail... Servin' a 40 to life sentence... For dope that wasn't even his Just sit back and listen, I'll tell you It's a hilarious day boooyyy, and it's a wild, wild chain of events that get yo ass in hea... (Chorus) (Killer Mike talking) Mama, I don't wanna sell, birds no more (I got a fuckin' funny story to tell you) They pushed me down and locked me up Put my face on the floor (You rem'ber me and big Paul and my whole crew nigga?) They took my money and my credit card Now I'm poor (Government snitches are amazin...) Mama, I don't wanna sell, crack no more (Just listen, only take about 3 minutes, just listen) (Verse 1) After high school, I gained lots of weight And I ain't talkin' bout calories put on by steak The recipe I'm cookin' may send me upstate Use bakin' soda, cook the pie, collect cake Now Pillsbury, these niggaz kick down doors Find out what mills bury Shit's very intense and criti-cal And when we drew pistols shit got piti-ful The first lick was bullshit, a half a brick We robbed the middle man and a bum bitch, the dumb bitch But between me and him and that hoe We walked away with 18 and a bigger score Some nigga named Salvatore from El Salvador Got silver teeth and a scar on his jaw Young Antonio Montana, held up mansion north Atlanta We hit'em hard as doors hammer, yea! (Chorus) (Killer Mike talking) Mama, I don't wanna sell, birds no more (Okay, I know whachu thinkin', it's on righ, we on righ, we on) They pushed me down and locked me up Put my face on the floor (Hold up, hold up, hold up, be patient, be patient, listen to the rest listen, listen) They took my money and my credit card Now I'm poor (Man I feel like a asshole just tellin' you this man) Mama, I don't wanna sell, crack no more (Tell the kid to give me the card, check it out here's where it gets interestin, follow this shit) (Verse 3) ??? the spot had more birds than a pet shop More gunz than a Vietnam vet, we was set Loaded up the work and let's jet My nigga big Paul loaded up the U-Haul A thousand pounds uncut raw Hold on, whus that I saw in the distance? Did he have a crew offerin assistance? Paul said it's prolly nuthin', a small animal or somethin' My nerves got to jumpin', I swear I heard somethin' I pointed the 4-5th in the wind and started thumpin' The blue lights is comin', my crew is runnin' Cops is everywhere, they keep comin' All of us sick, and all of us caught, holdin our dick We robbed the niggaz, same day the fuckin FEDs hit We robbed the niggaz, same day the fuckin FEDs hit Me and Salvatore fucked up in the mix That middle man and dumb bitch Them niggaz snitched, GOD DAMN! (Chorus) (Killer Mike talking) Mama, I don't wanna sell, birds no more (So young man, that's why the fuck I'm sittin here wearin these pants ???) They pushed me down and locked me up Put my face on the floor (I hear Salvatore got ??? or some shit) They took my money and my credit card Now I'm poor (The bum bitch that snitched, tss... who knows?) Mama I don't wanna sell, crack no more (Man I shoulda fuckin stayed in job corp stayed my fuckin ass in job corp, doin dumbass shit now I'm fuckin round witchall stupid ass niggaz too ain't no niggaz in jail but dumb niggaz niggaz ??? fuck that, I was stupid, I'm in jail and most the niggaz in hea with me stupid too... (laughs and hangs up the phone)) |
|||||
|
|
4:35 |
|
||
| from Killer Mike - Monster (2003) | |||||
 |
|
4:38 |
|
||
|
from Killer Mike - AKshon (yeah!) (2002)
(T.I. talking)
Aye, aye Bun who did this man? So me and you got, T.I.P., Killer Mike, Lil Jon, and Bun B So that's the King of the South.. the Underground King.. the King of Crunk.. and King Kong all on the same song Heheh.. aye Jon, they ain't ready We taking it on back to the trap my nigga! (Hook) I got them 'bows on my 'lac - swervin on these niggaz! I got the hump up in the back - bumpin in you speakers! I got the weed in my sack - smokin on that killa! In the hood where I'm at - trappin with my niggaz! I got the NEW NEW... (Killa K-K-K-Killa Killa...) NEW NEW... (K-K-K-Killa Killa..) NEW NEW... (K-K-K-Killa Killa..) NEW NEW... (Niggaz don't wanna touch the Killa..) (T.I.) Man we been tounge wrastlin for too long Aye whatchu wanna do homes? I'm finna pull this heat and have you fetal like a new-born T.I.P., Mike, and Bun B - scared whatchu better be We was just the kings, now we heads of a legacy Leaders of the new south, fake niggaz move out He talkin loud and proud, but he scared when the tool out I'm the nigga they be askin what we gon' do bout? Mike told me "fuck them niggaz, bring that New New out" Paint the Chevy, buy the Caddie, bring the 22's out Put the city back on top, just seperate the fools now We had lots of misrepresentation but hey we cool now Can't keep playin both sides of the fence, you got to choose now The realest of the real or the fakest of the fake If ya got it on ya chest, shawty say it to my face When ya hold ya nuts in hatred, ya only rushin til ya waste And we gon' show them people what it really is in the A (Hook) (Killer Mike) Straight from Atlanta, the hog hand-ler Grown folk trap, scramb-ler Need me?, Need to get ten G's to my manager My mack-10 made for action, body-baggin and toe taggin I'll drag 'em threw the river like a bad yellow nigga I'm mashin with pops fashion, bustin first no questions askin You gon' off that water woody thinkin you can hold me I'm, King Kong on every track, no cap-sule can hold me I'll THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP, when I BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP! It's woofers, tweeters, speakers, geekers, ALL IN YO' TRUNK! My dad ain't raise no fag, my mom ain't had no punk We don't hesitate or negotiate, we pop Chevy trunks From the home of Coca-Cola, I'm not referrin to soda I'ma grind til I shine, or die going for mine Sig Sauer by my side, swervin and blowin pine Don't be a victim to a Killer, be a father to ya son This Re-Akshon, Killa Kill, T.I.P., and Bun (Hook) (Bun B) Bitch I'm coming live from the trunk and I thrive on the funk Cuz I'd rather die like a man than survive like a punk I'm no coward, I'm 'dro-powered, you gettin Twin-Towered devoured - it's a shit-storm and you bout to get showered From Broward county to Harris, Pasadena to Paris I embarrass niggaz on chrome wheels as big as the ferris Cuz there is, now way now how - I stay low-key, low-brow In that black on black on black in the 'lac cuz I'm so wild I get, drunk off that, I'll be high off this I might pop one of those, it don't matter my nigga - I don't miss They put me hot on list, where players are posted But them players we posted up on corners, when they say and get roasted And the prayer get toasted, cuz I keep the flame on The face for the game on - leave a stain on anything I puts my name on Disrespect and the tech'll peck a player like Woody Cuz cain't nuttin keep a trill nigga down, ask Khujo Goodie (Hook) (Killer Mike talking) All I gotta say is sucker emcees better run The debate is now, who's the greatest emcee? T.I.P., Killer Mike, or Bun? We are not doing this for fun - this is a bloodsport Emcees are dying, mothers are crying and wack-ass niggaz will go out trying It is officially a new day, I am officially the new mouth AND THESE ARE THE EMCEES OF THE NEW SOUTH!! |
|||||
|
|
4:37 |
|
||
|
from Killer Mike - AKshon (yeah!) (2002)
(T.I. talking)
Aye, aye Bun who did this man? So me and you got, T.I.P., Killer Mike, Lil Jon, and Bun B So that's the King of the South.. the Underground King.. the King of Crunk.. and King Kong all on the same song Heheh.. aye Jon, they ain't ready We taking it on back to the trap my nigga! (Hook) I got them 'bows on my 'lac - swervin on these niggaz! I got the hump up in the back - bumpin in you speakers! I got the weed in my sack - smokin on that killa! In the hood where I'm at - trappin with my niggaz! I got the NEW NEW... (Killa K-K-K-Killa Killa...) NEW NEW... (K-K-K-Killa Killa..) NEW NEW... (K-K-K-Killa Killa..) NEW NEW... (Niggaz don't wanna touch the Killa..) (T.I.) Man we been tounge wrastlin for too long Aye whatchu wanna do homes? I'm finna pull this heat and have you fetal like a new-born T.I.P., Mike, and Bun B - scared whatchu better be We was just the kings, now we heads of a legacy Leaders of the new south, fake niggaz move out He talkin loud and proud, but he scared when the tool out I'm the nigga they be askin what we gon' do bout? Mike told me "fuck them niggaz, bring that New New out" Paint the Chevy, buy the Caddie, bring the 22's out Put the city back on top, just seperate the fools now We had lots of misrepresentation but hey we cool now Can't keep playin both sides of the fence, you got to choose now The realest of the real or the fakest of the fake If ya got it on ya chest, shawty say it to my face When ya hold ya nuts in hatred, ya only rushin til ya waste And we gon' show them people what it really is in the A (Hook) (Killer Mike) Straight from Atlanta, the hog hand-ler Grown folk trap, scramb-ler Need me?, Need to get ten G's to my manager My mack-10 made for action, body-baggin and toe taggin I'll drag 'em threw the river like a bad yellow nigga I'm mashin with pops fashion, bustin first no questions askin You gon' off that water woody thinkin you can hold me I'm, King Kong on every track, no cap-sule can hold me I'll THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP, when I BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP! It's woofers, tweeters, speakers, geekers, ALL IN YO' TRUNK! My dad ain't raise no fag, my mom ain't had no punk We don't hesitate or negotiate, we pop Chevy trunks From the home of Coca-Cola, I'm not referrin to soda I'ma grind til I shine, or die going for mine Sig Sauer by my side, swervin and blowin pine Don't be a victim to a Killer, be a father to ya son This Re-Akshon, Killa Kill, T.I.P., and Bun (Hook) (Bun B) Bitch I'm coming live from the trunk and I thrive on the funk Cuz I'd rather die like a man than survive like a punk I'm no coward, I'm 'dro-powered, you gettin Twin-Towered devoured - it's a shit-storm and you bout to get showered From Broward county to Harris, Pasadena to Paris I embarrass niggaz on chrome wheels as big as the ferris Cuz there is, now way now how - I stay low-key, low-brow In that black on black on black in the 'lac cuz I'm so wild I get, drunk off that, I'll be high off this I might pop one of those, it don't matter my nigga - I don't miss They put me hot on list, where players are posted But them players we posted up on corners, when they say and get roasted And the prayer get toasted, cuz I keep the flame on The face for the game on - leave a stain on anything I puts my name on Disrespect and the tech'll peck a player like Woody Cuz cain't nuttin keep a trill nigga down, ask Khujo Goodie (Hook) (Killer Mike talking) All I gotta say is sucker emcees better run The debate is now, who's the greatest emcee? T.I.P., Killer Mike, or Bun? We are not doing this for fun - this is a bloodsport Emcees are dying, mothers are crying and wack-ass niggaz will go out trying It is officially a new day, I am officially the new mouth AND THESE ARE THE EMCEES OF THE NEW SOUTH!! |
|||||
|
|
4:35 |
|
||
|
from Killer Mike - AKshon (yeah!) (2002)
(T.I. talking)
Aye, aye Bun who did this man? So me and you got, T.I.P., Killer Mike, Lil Jon, and Bun B So that's the King of the South.. the Underground King.. the King of Crunk.. and King Kong all on the same song Heheh.. aye Jon, they ain't ready We taking it on back to the trap my nigga! (Hook) I got them 'bows on my 'lac - swervin on these niggaz! I got the hump up in the back - bumpin in you speakers! I got the weed in my sack - smokin on that killa! In the hood where I'm at - trappin with my niggaz! I got the NEW NEW... (Killa K-K-K-Killa Killa...) NEW NEW... (K-K-K-Killa Killa..) NEW NEW... (K-K-K-Killa Killa..) NEW NEW... (Niggaz don't wanna touch the Killa..) (T.I.) Man we been tounge wrastlin for too long Aye whatchu wanna do homes? I'm finna pull this heat and have you fetal like a new-born T.I.P., Mike, and Bun B - scared whatchu better be We was just the kings, now we heads of a legacy Leaders of the new south, fake niggaz move out He talkin loud and proud, but he scared when the tool out I'm the nigga they be askin what we gon' do bout? Mike told me "fuck them niggaz, bring that New New out" Paint the Chevy, buy the Caddie, bring the 22's out Put the city back on top, just seperate the fools now We had lots of misrepresentation but hey we cool now Can't keep playin both sides of the fence, you got to choose now The realest of the real or the fakest of the fake If ya got it on ya chest, shawty say it to my face When ya hold ya nuts in hatred, ya only rushin til ya waste And we gon' show them people what it really is in the A (Hook) (Killer Mike) Straight from Atlanta, the hog hand-ler Grown folk trap, scramb-ler Need me?, Need to get ten G's to my manager My mack-10 made for action, body-baggin and toe taggin I'll drag 'em threw the river like a bad yellow nigga I'm mashin with pops fashion, bustin first no questions askin You gon' off that water woody thinkin you can hold me I'm, King Kong on every track, no cap-sule can hold me I'll THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP, when I BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP! It's woofers, tweeters, speakers, geekers, ALL IN YO' TRUNK! My dad ain't raise no fag, my mom ain't had no punk We don't hesitate or negotiate, we pop Chevy trunks From the home of Coca-Cola, I'm not referrin to soda I'ma grind til I shine, or die going for mine Sig Sauer by my side, swervin and blowin pine Don't be a victim to a Killer, be a father to ya son This Re-Akshon, Killa Kill, T.I.P., and Bun (Hook) (Bun B) Bitch I'm coming live from the trunk and I thrive on the funk Cuz I'd rather die like a man than survive like a punk I'm no coward, I'm 'dro-powered, you gettin Twin-Towered devoured - it's a shit-storm and you bout to get showered From Broward county to Harris, Pasadena to Paris I embarrass niggaz on chrome wheels as big as the ferris Cuz there is, now way now how - I stay low-key, low-brow In that black on black on black in the 'lac cuz I'm so wild I get, drunk off that, I'll be high off this I might pop one of those, it don't matter my nigga - I don't miss They put me hot on list, where players are posted But them players we posted up on corners, when they say and get roasted And the prayer get toasted, cuz I keep the flame on The face for the game on - leave a stain on anything I puts my name on Disrespect and the tech'll peck a player like Woody Cuz cain't nuttin keep a trill nigga down, ask Khujo Goodie (Hook) (Killer Mike talking) All I gotta say is sucker emcees better run The debate is now, who's the greatest emcee? T.I.P., Killer Mike, or Bun? We are not doing this for fun - this is a bloodsport Emcees are dying, mothers are crying and wack-ass niggaz will go out trying It is officially a new day, I am officially the new mouth AND THESE ARE THE EMCEES OF THE NEW SOUTH!! |
|||||
|
|
3:24 |
|
||
|
from Killer Mike - Monster (2003)
Big is dead, Pac is dead
My music's dead, and y'all just scared {scratched: "I'm Killer Mike, I'm Killer Mike, I'm Killer Mike, I'm Killer Mike"} Rap is dead, rock is dead My music's dead, and y'all just scared (Verse 1: Killer Mike) Fuck rap, rap's near death, bloated and sick Too many niggaz still ride, Big and Pac's dick Fuck that, next year, they more deader And I write more rhymes, more deadly and more better Then the last, sick and disturbed verse I wrote And sell it to tough teenage boys to quote Some music to madness, let the anger kill the pain and the sadness Fuck the fag shit, keep it Killer with the rap shit Hard rock when you rock shit, back to the block freestyle pop lock shit Back to the basics with the fuck a cop shit Rock pussies rap on some pop shit, sing like they rap Soft and frail, these spirits, didn't have the heart to smell This is no pain, and it's high octane A bad brain, on Kobain Lennon is dead, Kurt is dead My music's dead, and y'all just scared {scratched: "Killer Mike, who's the man, Killer Mike, who's the man"} Rap is dead, rock is dead My music's dead, and y'all just scared {scratched: "Killer Mike, who's the man, Killer Mike, who's the man"} (Verse 2: Killer Mike) God damnit rappers chitter chattar, on any subject matter But really does the subject really matter Pass the guns and blood splatter, does anything fuckin' matter Pass Cristal, pissed off, fuckin' right I'm pissed off And you a pistol, yo why the fuck do critics (?) Now wait a second, don't like what I'm saying Make a record, and I'll be glad when My music gets mad again, new school Ice Cube "Fuck you Killer Mike!" Yeah fuck you too No this ain't yo mama's music It's a drug if you like it, please abuse it Here's a cool meth-amphetamine for teens Nightmares comin', crushing ya fuckin' dreams, ultra-shock Rap rock, bringin' the bars back to rock and hip-hop Spit it, venom non-stop Big is dead, Pac is dead My music's dead, and y'all just scared {scratched: "Hip-Hop is, Killer Mike, Hip-Hop is, Killer Mike"} Rap is dead, rock is dead My music's dead, and y'all just scared {scratched: "Hip-Hop is, Killer Mike, Hip-Hop is, Killer Mike"} (Verse 3: Killer Mike) Knew it was a bad day when I woke up N-W-A's gonna raise(?) broke up Damn prayers ain't move the units that they should've Rappers on top don't spit like they could've I pledge allegiance to the hard, core How I give it to you, hard, raw Ay, a beautiful site to be seen There's a mosh pit packed with wild teens Hangin' onto every word that we spit Ready to rip, rock, and tear shit Self-pity's fuckin' up my music man Whine like a bitch or stand and be a man There's +Black Sabbath+, I'm smoking in a +Zeppelin+ Pumpin' +Metallica+, hand on my weapon Fuck you and the bed yo bitch slept in Killer-Kill keeps it real, hardcore is what I'm reppin' Big is dead, Pac is dead My music's dead, and y'all just scared {scratched: "I run shit, Killer Mike, I run shit, Killer Mike"} Lennon is dead, Kurt is dead My music's dead, and y'all just scared {scratched: "I run shit, Killer Mike, I run shit, Killer Mike"} Rap is dead, Killer Mike |
|||||
 |
|
3:25 |
|
||
|
from Killer Mike - A.D.I.D.A.S. (2003)
Big is dead, Pac is dead
My music's dead, and y'all just scared {scratched: "I'm Killer Mike, I'm Killer Mike, I'm Killer Mike, I'm Killer Mike"} Rap is dead, rock is dead My music's dead, and y'all just scared (Verse 1: Killer Mike) Fuck rap, rap's near death, bloated and sick Too many niggaz still ride, Big and Pac's dick Fuck that, next year, they more deader And I write more rhymes, more deadly and more better Then the last, sick and disturbed verse I wrote And sell it to tough teenage boys to quote Some music to madness, let the anger kill the pain and the sadness Fuck the fag shit, keep it Killer with the rap shit Hard rock when you rock shit, back to the block freestyle pop lock shit Back to the basics with the fuck a cop shit Rock pussies rap on some pop shit, sing like they rap Soft and frail, these spirits, didn't have the heart to smell This is no pain, and it's high octane A bad brain, on Kobain Lennon is dead, Kurt is dead My music's dead, and y'all just scared {scratched: "Killer Mike, who's the man, Killer Mike, who's the man"} Rap is dead, rock is dead My music's dead, and y'all just scared {scratched: "Killer Mike, who's the man, Killer Mike, who's the man"} (Verse 2: Killer Mike) God damnit rappers chitter chattar, on any subject matter But really does the subject really matter Pass the guns and blood splatter, does anything fuckin' matter Pass Cristal, pissed off, fuckin' right I'm pissed off And you a pistol, yo why the fuck do critics (?) Now wait a second, don't like what I'm saying Make a record, and I'll be glad when My music gets mad again, new school Ice Cube "Fuck you Killer Mike!" Yeah fuck you too No this ain't yo mama's music It's a drug if you like it, please abuse it Here's a cool meth-amphetamine for teens Nightmares comin', crushing ya fuckin' dreams, ultra-shock Rap rock, bringin' the bars back to rock and hip-hop Spit it, venom non-stop Big is dead, Pac is dead My music's dead, and y'all just scared {scratched: "Hip-Hop is, Killer Mike, Hip-Hop is, Killer Mike"} Rap is dead, rock is dead My music's dead, and y'all just scared {scratched: "Hip-Hop is, Killer Mike, Hip-Hop is, Killer Mike"} (Verse 3: Killer Mike) Knew it was a bad day when I woke up N-W-A's gonna raise(?) broke up Damn prayers ain't move the units that they should've Rappers on top don't spit like they could've I pledge allegiance to the hard, core How I give it to you, hard, raw Ay, a beautiful site to be seen There's a mosh pit packed with wild teens Hangin' onto every word that we spit Ready to rip, rock, and tear shit Self-pity's fuckin' up my music man Whine like a bitch or stand and be a man There's +Black Sabbath+, I'm smoking in a +Zeppelin+ Pumpin' +Metallica+, hand on my weapon Fuck you and the bed yo bitch slept in Killer-Kill keeps it real, hardcore is what I'm reppin' Big is dead, Pac is dead My music's dead, and y'all just scared {scratched: "I run shit, Killer Mike, I run shit, Killer Mike"} Lennon is dead, Kurt is dead My music's dead, and y'all just scared {scratched: "I run shit, Killer Mike, I run shit, Killer Mike"} Rap is dead, Killer Mike |
|||||
 |
|
6:00 |
|
||
|
from Jay-Z - The Blueprint 2 : The Gift & The Curse (2002)
[Intro/Chorus: repeat 2X] And we gon' stay hustlin on that block until we caught And we gon' stay showin off that jewelry that we bought And we gon' stay leavin out the stores with heavy bags Cause we poppin tags, pimpin we be poppin tags! [Verse One: Jay-Z] We arose, let's go "So Fresh So Clean" like 'Kast Jay-Z be poppin tags Leavin the mall with heavy bags You know the boy got a love for the cash Aw fuck, there he go again Talkin bout hoes and dough again Yup! -- Can't hold it in I'm surprised I got so much dough to spend But, back when I was poorer then You wasn't focusin, about the dough I spend But I was holdin in, I was a roller then I was a baller back then, all of that man Fall back, I fought that What would you do if you was in my shoes? Leave dudes in the rearview V-12 engine, corners spinnin Twinkies shinin, pinky ring Armadale, nigga stinky stink Top, down, my cash is up Gold chain, I don't give a fuck Gold brain'll get you in the truck ma That's right, you in luck ma You see me cruisin down, better step inside Ain't enough room to fit you all in the ride First come, first served basis You know Hov' be goin to nice places That's right, and I'm droppin cash Leave the mall with garbage bags Gucci this, Prada that Roll witcha boy you'll be poppin tags [Chorus] [Verse Two: Twista] It's a party when I go up in the sto' Shoppin while I'm zooted off the dro' Rollin like a nigga that just came up on a mill' and I got 'em sweepin and pickin up tags off the flo' Bag full of clothes I remember havin rocks in the hall on the glimmer with the glock by the ball Servin up a jab and workin security 6 to 6 Then it's straight from the block to the mall Now what's on the wall? Go ahead and treat yo'self When you come up on some cheddar better pop that tag Like when I dip off in the Prada then I go off to the lot lay the paper down and cop that Jag I got a console full of ammunition and funds Mink Roc-a-Wear and some guns Petty in a fresh pair of jumps, blo-packs and Bo Jax and Air Maxes, throw back some ones, no max for none (When I go up in the sto' a nigga never get enough) I'm a baller and if you want it come and get it now (Nigga come to a race with a car you won't catch up) And the Twista kinda wicked when I spit it now I be choppin up cheddar with Kanye Chop a little cheddar up with Jay Chop it up with the O-to-the-Kizay Poppin big tags with the flow and the dough, we get bi-zay! [Chorus] [Verse Three: Killer Mike] Uh-huh, whattup? Tell you somethin bout me.. My throwback game is whiffle wicked Saint Patties day, green pinstripe, number 20 Mark Spitz'n Jersey ooh-wee with the matchin Nu*Wear fitted White boys say my style is bitchin Keepin coke in the kitchen Keep a glock that will shock and bring the rest tucked underneath my Michelin S I, travellin, handlin with a forty-five cannon It's tucked in my Marc Buchanan Extra clips and shells in the lambskin Two deep by Pelle Pelle Westside how they felly fell More G's on me, than a late 80's Gucci leather worn by the great Rakim himself Stitch my Dapper Dan oh man with the gun in hand I leave your blood squirting No offense, I'll put your face on the chest of a sweatshirt drawn by Shirt Kings I been fucking, a hustle, married to a racket since the first Air Jordan's and Starter jackets I slept with a package, under mattress I carry guns heavy speakeasy, slight with the fight words I'll put somethin hot through your motherfuckin iceberg Got a project chica, named Rica She keep a purse full of dro' reefer Small, pinkies like that Talk 'til the paper fat I rock somethin, roll chief +Sacks+ like Daddy Fat! [Chorus] [Verse Four: Big Boi] Pop tires in reverse, you'll be needin a nurse Leave you layin on your back in a Cadillac hearse Now your momma in all black with a matchin purse I know you wanna blow up, but a funeral hurts What's worse, you can hit the mall and ball 'til you fall Have to make a collect call, but your cell cut off Trot to the mailbox thinkin a check but the mail's run short No more MD, DD, LD That means Movie Date, Dinner Date, Lunch Date, help me please My sheets is gone Long bread to the short bread, word is bond Meticulously pimpously serve the song Act a damn donkey Like the pilgrims when they popped a tag on the indians home Drop top rag-o with the weed gone Chillin, bags in the trunk full of FEO Schwartz for the chill'uns Spent a few shillings Sip a few chickens, lick a few kittens, just kiddin A fresh bowl of milk is in the fridge and Can you pop the tags on the honeycombs Or are you actin mad cause the money done slowed, down, just a little bit Dipped, poked out, did some shull-bit Actin like a pitfall bull-pit Dead game is the pul-pit Leave a motherpumper with his John Doe toe tag clipped Imperial classic, a lyrical thrashin A miracle happenin Jay-Z, Killer Mike and Big Boi rappin and rhymin and smabbin Pop that tag on some of this game Holla-tic, swallow and keep the change [Chorus] |
|||||
 |
|
5:16 |
|
||
|
from Bone Crusher - Attenchun ! (2003)
"Never Scared"
(feat. Killer Mike, T.I.) (Bone Crusher talking) Yea! This nigga think we hoez or somethin' my nigga... Sheeeit, man what the... lemme talk to the ma'fucca How hard we really ma'fuccin is in this biaaaatch... nah'm sayin? Fuck nigga... sheit man, ole punk ass kids, we out the club nigga... Dat sheeit don't mean nuttin nigga! I'm gon fuck this nigga up, my nigga! Sheeeeit, lemme show this ma'fucca how hard this shit really is!!! (Chorus) So I'm outside of da club and you think I'm a punk So I go to my loaded tech 9 thats up in da trunk I told that muthafucka I ain't never scared (eastside!) I ain't never scared (westside!) I ain't never scared (southside!) I ain't never scared (northside!) I ain't never scared (southside!) I ain't never scared (eastside!) I ain't never scared (westside!) (Verse 1: Bone Crusher) Let a choppa go PLOOOOOOWWW! to yo melon Now the plasma is oozin outta yo cerebellum AttenSHUNNNNN! Fuck nigga, now you swellin You ain't talkin hardcore, now is ya? Lil' bitch! Got'em runnin scared of a... BIGGA NIGGA! Cuz I put the heat to his ummm... HILFIGER! Now on dat drank and on some of dat dank Pistols gettin bursted now I need somethin to drank (REPEAT CHORUS) (Verse 2: Killer Mike) I got a hot 4 fever, call it bitch Benita Knock the apple off any bum or the hollow heat seaker Ran 'cross bitch niggaz, fuck the pint, she take blood by the liter I'll never leave her, my viscous vixen On liquor, send dat ass to God quicker No matter yo religion, you Muslim, Hebrew or Christian She indiscriminate with punishment, she send'em missin My gun's my favorite bitch and And she got permanent PMS so she stay bitchin! (REPEAT CHORUS w/ ad libs by T.I.) (Verse 3: T.I.) Noooooo, I ain't bad, just don't kiss no ass or take shit And I'm a grown man, find you somebody to play wit If you'on like me when you see me, betta not say shit I'll choke yo ass out like Dre did that bitch You betta tell these pussies they ain't fuckin wit no rookie I'm a Bankhead nigga, I'll take yo cookiez! So don't make it a me or you situation I'll have yo partner down and I'll see you visitation Like, hope for the best, but I'on think he gon make it Not the way he was shiverin and shakin on the pavement I'll tell you wha, if you make it, call'em grace cuz he amazin Find out these verses wasn't the only thang blazin and Just when you thought that I was done I was savin the Best for last, nigga kiss my ass Like ?? they my folkz, itz best you just let'em be Cuz I do the shit precincts and them FED's just ain't never see nigga! (REPEAT CHORUS) (Bone Crusher yelling) YEA NIGGA! Just break'em off muthafucka! We the real niggaz! All you hatin' muthafuckaz, underachieverz... Step back, hoe nigga! Listen closely... We ain't neva scared of none of you niggaz! T.I., Bone Crusher, Killer Mike, just break'em off niggaaaaaaaaaaa! (REPEAT CHORUS 2X) |
|||||
 |
|
3:43 |
|
||
| from Killer Mike - My Chrome (Clean Version) (2005) | |||||
 |
|
3:41 |
|
||
| from Killer Mike - My Chrome (Explicit Version) (2005) | |||||
 |
|
3:41 |
|
||
| from Killer Mike - My Chrome [single] (2005) | |||||
|
|
3:42 |
|
||
| from Killer Mike - My Chrome [single] (2005) | |||||
|
|
3:41 |
|
||
| from Killer Mike - My Chrome [single] (2005) | |||||
|
|
3:39 |
|
||
| from Killer Mike - My Chrome [single] (2005) | |||||
|
|
1:21 |
|
||
|
from Killer Mike - Monster (2003)
Peace will never tame the hatrid of me
I'm too restricted, separated from your society.. I'm a new breed of species, a curse to lift that speak my name I'm different twisted, my mind is not the same For those who deny the truth, will seek to try and find it you my friend are blinds of the truth for you are simple minded My ways are called abnormal, they treath me as if forsaken But all should feel the wrath just like when my heart was taken And if these words fail to reach their ears and for limit their view you won't know but when I stryke you'll wish that you've of knew... This beast is on the loose, if you treasure life then destroy it for it is too realistic for you to simply ignore it I've given a fair warning now I've been well because I've cut it loose a new terror walks the earth and now it's all up to you If all hope shall fail then you should sit and ponder your faith has been decided by one dangerous monstah... |
|||||
|
|
4:59 |
|
||
|
from Killer Mike - Monster (2003)
Peace will never tame the hatrid of me
I'm too restricted, separated from your society.. I'm a new breed of species, a curse to lift that speak my name I'm different twisted, my mind is not the same For those who deny the truth, will seek to try and find it you my friend are blinds of the truth for you are simple minded My ways are called abnormal, they treath me as if forsaken But all should feel the wrath just like when my heart was taken And if these words fail to reach their ears and for limit their view you won't know but when I stryke you'll wish that you've of knew... This beast is on the loose, if you treasure life then destroy it for it is too realistic for you to simply ignore it I've given a fair warning now I've been well because I've cut it loose a new terror walks the earth and now it's all up to you If all hope shall fail then you should sit and ponder your faith has been decided by one dangerous monstah... |
|||||
|
|
3:57 |
|
||
| from Killer Mike - Monster (2003) | |||||
 |
|
4:37 |
|
||
| from Young Bloodz - Drankin' Patnaz (2003) | |||||
|
|
4:29 |
|
||
|
from Killer Mike - Monster (2003)
(Big Boi)
Yeah Its going all the way down Aquemeni Records, Killer Mike, Slimm Calhoun Just because your wearing a Braves' jersey doesn't mean we on the same team you playin' on bitch Cool and Dre on the track, run it (Verse 1: Killer Mike) Since last heard I'm still Randy Moss and I still catch a beat runnin' when its tossed and often light green kiss my ass to coffin Cut the bull in Harlem on sloughths(?) and cut the bull then I'm seven duece Impala whore dance Ambidexterious juggle pretty girls and they friendly fifty friends hit Jamacia rollin' papers turning up spotta benz City corners I've been in a duece double O three Benz I'm sittin' on those dubs twins I'm from the city where kiddies ride on dope rims It's where niggaz snap shot and they ain't takin' pictures mista I'm well equipped to hit ya', same birthday as Hitler I'll getcha (Chorus: repeat 2X) Hey we rep that A A T L A N T A state of G A G A G A home of the brave home of the brave G A G A home of the brave (Verse 2: Killer Mike) I got a Tahoe, and a Tahoe she work out fit like Taebo Get my findy(?) Air Force Ones shit wait I'm so old Last one to Louie Fitoine skins on my timbo's Gettin' blown in a limo, that's my M.O. Roll next presidential, get a pistol to your temple I'll let it faint, leave your brain lingering in limbo Southern fried that's how I ride, creed on simple Kill 'em all let God seperate good from evil You faggots do it for glory Y'alls just do it for my people I'm grand national built beautiful and legal (Chorus) (Verse 3: Slimm Calhoun) A town down Braves started cap from the land of the made ain't no hard atrap after depts of the dungeon We livin' artifacts where niggaz rip chickens talk bricks, keep an artist strapped Flame throwers got us hot in the spot wreckin these dog tails through red dog stripe It's like all hell, block cells make bail and it's back to these crooks and cakes jumpin' at next cell What you know about the way the whales kiss it your body scaled I'm 'bout to hit by the box of tens through the mail then reply beaten twelve sickness spinnin' on twenty-ones We produce many guns, we spittin' at anyones Disrespect (?) little bows and I'll cock and explode up Take me to the grave, grave, home of the brave (Chorus) (Killer Mike) So slums, so sligh, nigga (i'm) straight ducked you can ask my baby's mother she'll tell you niggaz shit He the type to fuck a bitch rob that bitch's baby brother (Slimm Calhoun) And I'm the type to rip ya bitch leave the shit up under your covers (?) blessing from sin New recrutes we in it again rap so hard we flippin' again walkin' dubs on the benz (Killer Mike) One, two, crack fiend three on boys street jeans Four full blown hit the scene five like trap (?) Like a thick hoe in sassy jeans rub her right she'll cream Fuck her right moan and scream killer kill out on (?) (Slimm Calhoun) Swervin', servin', bouncin' the buttons like 5 5 9 truck somethin' Two glock nines round dumpin' round my hip strap ain't jumpin' Keep my bitch dunkin' somethin' be outlawed bangin' 'em down for bustin' (Chorus) - repeat to fade |
|||||
 |
|
4:26 |
|
||
| from Killer Mike - Get 'Em Shawty feat. Three 6 Mafia [Clean Version] [single] (2005) | |||||
 |
|
4:26 |
|
||
| from Killer Mike - Get 'Em Shawty feat. Three 6 Mafia [Explicit Version] [single] (2005) | |||||
|
|
3:44 |
|
||
|
from Killer Mike - Monster (2003)
*heart beats*
*woman sings in background as the Intro begins* (Intro) Ryan pump blast shattered glass in the classroom Penny tried to hide in a bathroom, Homicide scream from the hand held dragon Mental flame from the barrel claim 25 angel, mercy Long as the black board, splatter with his inside Never had a chance to ride his new skateboard Billy didn't shake lord, he fell silent Died in the pantomime of cold violence His killer didn't even blink, he couldn't think Even when he heard the sirens kept firing Pupils dilated, possessed and perspiring He grew up admiring, 30 auts and calicos AR-15 and long barreled 44's so on the story goes He went out in a blaze of glory He went out in a front page story He went out in a front page story (Hook)(x2) My soul can't rest today I can't bring myself to pray I get down on my knees Cause you will always be six feet under me (Verse One) Frank, I'm sorry you didn't get to see your cell phone tape, hear yourself But to the mother fuckas who took Frank Williams AKA Fast Black, FUCK YOU! (Gunshot) Dear God, I've messed up again, I'm sassed up again Vodka spilling out my mouth onto my chin I've slipped into the darkness of the heartless Those barbarians carry savage weapons and they start shit They hearts is cold as the artic, these men motivate mobs to lynch These monsters are men, who I hang with These monsters of then are who I bang with Who I bang with, Crips, Bloods, BG, VL we have created our own road to hell We train to kill and not to feel, reacting with a mac But no matter who I kill I can't bring my nigga back My niggaz dead and I can't get my fucking head around it We was just smoking blunts of the best chronic And now I'm wearing a t-shirt with his picture on it Staggering about to vomit, consumed with vengeance With my vengeance I'm all consumed, by mid afternoon smoking blunts in my room To whom ever this letter may concern When bullets strike they burn more than the flesh of the ones hit You took my nigga my heart split, its broken, shattered in a million pieces Help me Jesus, help me Jesus, just help me Jesus, thug niggaz killers They victims was screaming help me Jesus (Hook)(x2) My soul can't rest today I can't bring myself to pray I get down on my knees Cause you will always be six feet under me *woman sings until end of beat* *heart monitor goes flat line* |
|||||
|
|
3:34 |
|
||
|
from Killer Mike - Monster (2003)
(Chorus)
Welcome to the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show anything goes strippers and live shows It's the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show exctasy, hydro, and good blow It's the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show hoes strip, where pimps and hoes do strolls It's the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show Where hustlas collect rocks and straight rolls (Verse 1: Killer MIke) Welcome home motherfuckers your back again into the den of inequity the life of sin Where after the after party and the hotel lobbies probably find me drunk off Bacardi in a swank hotel an aspiring actress Trying to push her back through a thousand dollar mattress In Chicago a couple of bottles, couple of models, stolen Diablos Fast and furious going full throttle post club function, pills get swallowed Ladies get loose and so do bra staps power, money, and sex drive good raps Freaks emerge in a twilight with party pack of hydros alchohol blurred eye sight From dusk til dawn is when vampires roam pro athletes trick and don't go home (Chorus) (Verse 2: Killer Mike) Riding with my nigga Big Boi you don't sleep even partied with Diddy up in NYC Got drunk, rubbed titties of Dominican freaks every night bachelor party in the boom boom room On trees get burned or liquor consumed you ain't really seen a color till you seen it on shrooms Lipstick on the pale of my Pelle Pele spot hotter than fish scales cooked in coked ale Vampire party and we gets it down in the undergrounds underground Underground in club commer's basement ladies and low lifes do get wasted So high you can't hear the music but you feel it when the bass hits the atmosphere like the first year Freak bass hit everybodys heart goes fast rolling Mitsubishi's shakin' that ass (Chorus) (Verse 3: Bizzare) Got twenties on the Escort, bitch park my shit It's Bizzare from D12 in this bitch (yeah) and wich nigga want to fight (what!) I'm the club with Suge Knight, Ike, and Killer Mike (how does it feel) Fat dick for all my enemies caught a disease fucking Roy and Jazzie T (a ha ha) My girlfriends a fucking fool when she turned her back I'm making out with her mother like I'm in high school (shhh) And I don't sale crack to my African brothers I sell it to they mothers and they ex-lovers (that's true) So go ahead bitch pop the X so I can work your neck in the back of my Vett (ahh!) Red bones, I hate 'em no question I like fat bitches with bladder infections (ughh) Bizzare get down from strokers to Magic City It's the creep show, show your nasty titties (Chorus) |
|||||
 |
|
3:09 |
|
||
|
from Outkast - Speakerboxxx / The Love Below (2003)
I hope that you're the one
If not, you are the prototype We'll tiptoe to the sun And do thangs I know you like [Hook] I think I'm in love again [repeat] [Verse 1] Today must be my lucky day Baby, you are the prototype Do sumn' outta the ordinary Like catch a manitee Baby you are the prototype I think I'm.. [Hook] [Verse 2] If we happen to part Lord knows I don't want that But hey, we can't be mad at God We met today for a reason I think I'm on the right track now [Hook] The Scene Come here [Hook] [Outro (ad libs)] Girl, right now I wanna say, I wanna say I wanna say stank you very much For picking me up And bringing me back to this world I can't, I'm not I can't afford to not record I thank I wanna say I thank I wanna say stank you, stank you Smelly much! For picking me up and bringing me back to this world Hey, hey John! Are we recording our ad libs? Really?? Were we recording just then? Let me hear that, that first one When I first started |
|||||
|
|
4:01 |
|
||
| from Killer Mike - Monster (2003) | |||||
|
|
4:05 |
|
||
| from Killer Mike - Monster (2003) | |||||
|
|
2:49 |
|
||
|
from Killer Mike - Monster (2003)
lets do that shit
Yeah! Killer keeps it honest Cause reality is perception with a weak stomach Bubbling uneasy like the bowels of hell (Boo!) Enough to make a black ghost turn pale Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! (Verse One) K-I-L-L This is the name that came to alter the game Not like these rappers who spit it the same Separate lames from they chain My mind don't slack I'm totally focused on beating up tracks Monsterous music to beat in your 'Lac 1000 watt amp with woofers in back Lean to da left if you burning a sac Baby got back and its in Baby Phat Pardon me dog 4 chasing the cat I'm hittin all kittens meowing like that I like the front but I'm loving the back I like to bite and I'm hoping she scratch Escalade dipping I'm holding the lane Mama's a scholar she blowing my brain Ain't the the life? Snapping & Trappin and Rappin & Frappin all night Lil mama's a plumber she handling pipe Ill wit a pill she handle it right Like Iverson, the smallest thing on the team But the livest one Cocked loaded bust like a gun Y'all better run, one, one! (hook by big boi) Thump, thump, thump, thump (yeah) All in your trunk (yeah) Grinding and hustling and getting at mine Swerving and token and grippin on pine Bump, bump, bump, bump All in your trunk Woofers and tweeters and speakers and geekers Crawl in your bunk (Verse Two) How we gon' stop (whooa) How we gone quit (shitttt!) Brand new shoes and socks on the Chevy I came through swerving like this (im Good wit the game, gutter fo' show Ducking you lames and obstacles go get that ass in a hospital Wrapped in cast from head to toe This boy he real! Racing those candy Sevilles through Dixie Hills My car do wheelies they drive on three wheels First round pick like Michael Vick Quarterback status throw passes at chicks Santana Moss When catching the ball Get it? Like Moss she catches the ball Perfectly tuned my engine don't stall And I'm equipped with nitros y'all Ready to rip, burn, roar! Ready to tear through your city and tour Took The Whole World and murdered that shit! Caught the beat running and dipped with that bitch! Later for now I'm hustling hits Flipping my words like bricks, trick! (Hook) (Ending) New, new! That new new! New new for you you! New new for you you! That new new! That new new! New new for you you! New new for you you! |
|||||
|
|
2:51 |
|
||
|
from Killer Mike - AKshon (yeah!) (2002)
lets do that shit
Yeah! Killer keeps it honest Cause reality is perception with a weak stomach Bubbling uneasy like the bowels of hell (Boo!) Enough to make a black ghost turn pale Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! (Verse One) K-I-L-L This is the name that came to alter the game Not like these rappers who spit it the same Separate lames from they chain My mind don't slack I'm totally focused on beating up tracks Monsterous music to beat in your 'Lac 1000 watt amp with woofers in back Lean to da left if you burning a sac Baby got back and its in Baby Phat Pardon me dog 4 chasing the cat I'm hittin all kittens meowing like that I like the front but I'm loving the back I like to bite and I'm hoping she scratch Escalade dipping I'm holding the lane Mama's a scholar she blowing my brain Ain't the the life? Snapping & Trappin and Rappin & Frappin all night Lil mama's a plumber she handling pipe Ill wit a pill she handle it right Like Iverson, the smallest thing on the team But the livest one Cocked loaded bust like a gun Y'all better run, one, one! (hook by big boi) Thump, thump, thump, thump (yeah) All in your trunk (yeah) Grinding and hustling and getting at mine Swerving and token and grippin on pine Bump, bump, bump, bump All in your trunk Woofers and tweeters and speakers and geekers Crawl in your bunk (Verse Two) How we gon' stop (whooa) How we gone quit (shitttt!) Brand new shoes and socks on the Chevy I came through swerving like this (im Good wit the game, gutter fo' show Ducking you lames and obstacles go get that ass in a hospital Wrapped in cast from head to toe This boy he real! Racing those candy Sevilles through Dixie Hills My car do wheelies they drive on three wheels First round pick like Michael Vick Quarterback status throw passes at chicks Santana Moss When catching the ball Get it? Like Moss she catches the ball Perfectly tuned my engine don't stall And I'm equipped with nitros y'all Ready to rip, burn, roar! Ready to tear through your city and tour Took The Whole World and murdered that shit! Caught the beat running and dipped with that bitch! Later for now I'm hustling hits Flipping my words like bricks, trick! (Hook) (Ending) New, new! That new new! New new for you you! New new for you you! That new new! That new new! New new for you you! New new for you you! |
|||||
|
|
2:53 |
|
||
|
from Killer Mike - AKshon (yeah!) (2002)
lets do that shit
Yeah! Killer keeps it honest Cause reality is perception with a weak stomach Bubbling uneasy like the bowels of hell (Boo!) Enough to make a black ghost turn pale Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! (Verse One) K-I-L-L This is the name that came to alter the game Not like these rappers who spit it the same Separate lames from they chain My mind don't slack I'm totally focused on beating up tracks Monsterous music to beat in your 'Lac 1000 watt amp with woofers in back Lean to da left if you burning a sac Baby got back and its in Baby Phat Pardon me dog 4 chasing the cat I'm hittin all kittens meowing like that I like the front but I'm loving the back I like to bite and I'm hoping she scratch Escalade dipping I'm holding the lane Mama's a scholar she blowing my brain Ain't the the life? Snapping & Trappin and Rappin & Frappin all night Lil mama's a plumber she handling pipe Ill wit a pill she handle it right Like Iverson, the smallest thing on the team But the livest one Cocked loaded bust like a gun Y'all better run, one, one! (hook by big boi) Thump, thump, thump, thump (yeah) All in your trunk (yeah) Grinding and hustling and getting at mine Swerving and token and grippin on pine Bump, bump, bump, bump All in your trunk Woofers and tweeters and speakers and geekers Crawl in your bunk (Verse Two) How we gon' stop (whooa) How we gone quit (shitttt!) Brand new shoes and socks on the Chevy I came through swerving like this (im Good wit the game, gutter fo' show Ducking you lames and obstacles go get that ass in a hospital Wrapped in cast from head to toe This boy he real! Racing those candy Sevilles through Dixie Hills My car do wheelies they drive on three wheels First round pick like Michael Vick Quarterback status throw passes at chicks Santana Moss When catching the ball Get it? Like Moss she catches the ball Perfectly tuned my engine don't stall And I'm equipped with nitros y'all Ready to rip, burn, roar! Ready to tear through your city and tour Took The Whole World and murdered that shit! Caught the beat running and dipped with that bitch! Later for now I'm hustling hits Flipping my words like bricks, trick! (Hook) (Ending) New, new! That new new! New new for you you! New new for you you! That new new! That new new! New new for you you! New new for you you! |
|||||
|
|
3:28 |
|
||
|
from Killer Mike - Monster (2003)
Pussy nigga whatcha doin!
Hook All day I dream about, all day I dream about sex It's the way you move your sexy groove That's got my mind all over you All day I dream about, all day I dream about Your sex feels so savoifare I'm tired of jercking off cause your not there Big Boi 65' Chevrolet Impala peachy cream Oozing down the street like toothpaste Cause the ivory is clean Talkin' bout mean at the inseam on the inside of the ship Not a honey dip to hunch on, testes more blue than a Crip Or the blue man group caught that on the Vegas strip Chillin' with good game, Ju Ju, Pimpin Ken and my nigga Don Magic Pimpin Ken and my nigga Diamond Jit Pimps (pimps), lips (lips), legs (legs), arms (arms), Necks (necks), hips (hips), head (head) monk test It's the camel toe and that's fo' sho' My brain is on one track Like Marion Berry thoughts for crack Or like a rock star does for smack. None of that but the female genitalia's where its at I'm a man and I demand a woman for that act Personal preference plus I use the law of nature as a reference Now I don't ever recall seeing a man turn up pregnant, but that's just me Feminine female fantasies frolic freely in my cockpit Every thirty something seconds I can't stop it Hook Killer Mike Killer Kill from Adamsville and in my Bonneville I chill Heifers call me Black & Decker, I don't screw them hoes I drill I've been cuttin' cute lil' coochies since before the record deal Catch me daydreaming about them, thick, medium or slim Doctors call that thing vagina, in the hood we call it trim White boys call it snatch, Puerto Ricans call it chocha Nathaniel likes his white, I like mines dark as cola It's the first thing on my mind in the morn when I roll over All men young and old in the end its what we're after Even my grandpappy's happy. He got prescribed Viagra. (Granddaddy, granddaddy, what's up? what's up? It's me. Hey, let me get about three of them blue diamonds. I promise I gotcha back tomorrow) Hook Killer Mike When I drill I don't spill even if she's on the pill Keep my weapon covered concealed and in a shield Cause I don't need that A.I.D.S. A "D" and a "A" missing out my A.D.I.D.A.S. (plus) We don't need no DNA mixing between us We just need to keep this thing friendly and hush, hush On the down low, like R. Kelly and youngsters But over eighteen only cause baby I'm no perv! From the tour bus to the lobby, elevator to the room We can jump each other's bones but there's no jumping brooms! Big Boi Buffoon you are to consumed in the womb It is too early for you to jump the broom (boom!) Hook "Monster" Verse One I'm an ungodly figure When in the company of hard liquor Texas niggaz turned me on to water I smoked the river Apocalyptic creature, stay lacing reefer Stay serving geekers, stay holding heaters Murder fanatic, killer fantastic Swerving semi-conscious with a half a blunt and an automatic Bought it to snort it, just in case I meet with static What I deliver to your address is dead tragic Your mother scream in that limousine Followed by some slow traffic Here's the reason for my murder tactics I'm Killer Kill I ain't a fuckin rapper! I'm a crack sacker! I'm a strong-armed robbery and kidnapper! I'm a carjacker! I'm a if you owe dough then yo' ho snatcher! I'm a Slumlord for life not a fuckin actor! I'm the fear that haunts you! I'm the tool that's used to haunt you! Hook I'm the monster! I'm your sick and twisted monster! (Repeat) Verse Two I'm the hate in the dark heart of heartless men! Deprived of love, feed crack, nurtured in sin! I'm unwanted children doped up on Ritalin by age ten At sixteen a fiend! Nurturing a weed habit and a bottle of gin I'm the soul of women that's been betrayed by men That trifling nigga looking to deceive her again Earn her trust again, then I lust again When she turn her back, I'm diggin in her friend again! I motivate your hate and embody your sin I spit it for Bloods, Crips and Mexicans I spit for Disciples and El Rukns This sick soundtrack to robbing and looting Neighbor shootings, murder and boosting Its fear engaged, with a fury and rage For my lost generation in these last days The fear that haunts you! It's the tool that's used to hunt you! |
|||||
|
|
3:31 |
|
||
|
from Killer Mike - A.D.I.D.A.S. (2003)
Pussy nigga whatcha doin!
Hook All day I dream about, all day I dream about sex It's the way you move your sexy groove That's got my mind all over you All day I dream about, all day I dream about Your sex feels so savoifare I'm tired of jercking off cause your not there Big Boi 65' Chevrolet Impala peachy cream Oozing down the street like toothpaste Cause the ivory is clean Talkin' bout mean at the inseam on the inside of the ship Not a honey dip to hunch on, testes more blue than a Crip Or the blue man group caught that on the Vegas strip Chillin' with good game, Ju Ju, Pimpin Ken and my nigga Don Magic Pimpin Ken and my nigga Diamond Jit Pimps (pimps), lips (lips), legs (legs), arms (arms), Necks (necks), hips (hips), head (head) monk test It's the camel toe and that's fo' sho' My brain is on one track Like Marion Berry thoughts for crack Or like a rock star does for smack. None of that but the female genitalia's where its at I'm a man and I demand a woman for that act Personal preference plus I use the law of nature as a reference Now I don't ever recall seeing a man turn up pregnant, but that's just me Feminine female fantasies frolic freely in my cockpit Every thirty something seconds I can't stop it Hook Killer Mike Killer Kill from Adamsville and in my Bonneville I chill Heifers call me Black & Decker, I don't screw them hoes I drill I've been cuttin' cute lil' coochies since before the record deal Catch me daydreaming about them, thick, medium or slim Doctors call that thing vagina, in the hood we call it trim White boys call it snatch, Puerto Ricans call it chocha Nathaniel likes his white, I like mines dark as cola It's the first thing on my mind in the morn when I roll over All men young and old in the end its what we're after Even my grandpappy's happy. He got prescribed Viagra. (Granddaddy, granddaddy, what's up? what's up? It's me. Hey, let me get about three of them blue diamonds. I promise I gotcha back tomorrow) Hook Killer Mike When I drill I don't spill even if she's on the pill Keep my weapon covered concealed and in a shield Cause I don't need that A.I.D.S. A "D" and a "A" missing out my A.D.I.D.A.S. (plus) We don't need no DNA mixing between us We just need to keep this thing friendly and hush, hush On the down low, like R. Kelly and youngsters But over eighteen only cause baby I'm no perv! From the tour bus to the lobby, elevator to the room We can jump each other's bones but there's no jumping brooms! Big Boi Buffoon you are to consumed in the womb It is too early for you to jump the broom (boom!) Hook "Monster" Verse One I'm an ungodly figure When in the company of hard liquor Texas niggaz turned me on to water I smoked the river Apocalyptic creature, stay lacing reefer Stay serving geekers, stay holding heaters Murder fanatic, killer fantastic Swerving semi-conscious with a half a blunt and an automatic Bought it to snort it, just in case I meet with static What I deliver to your address is dead tragic Your mother scream in that limousine Followed by some slow traffic Here's the reason for my murder tactics I'm Killer Kill I ain't a fuckin rapper! I'm a crack sacker! I'm a strong-armed robbery and kidnapper! I'm a carjacker! I'm a if you owe dough then yo' ho snatcher! I'm a Slumlord for life not a fuckin actor! I'm the fear that haunts you! I'm the tool that's used to haunt you! Hook I'm the monster! I'm your sick and twisted monster! (Repeat) Verse Two I'm the hate in the dark heart of heartless men! Deprived of love, feed crack, nurtured in sin! I'm unwanted children doped up on Ritalin by age ten At sixteen a fiend! Nurturing a weed habit and a bottle of gin I'm the soul of women that's been betrayed by men That trifling nigga looking to deceive her again Earn her trust again, then I lust again When she turn her back, I'm diggin in her friend again! I motivate your hate and embody your sin I spit it for Bloods, Crips and Mexicans I spit for Disciples and El Rukns This sick soundtrack to robbing and looting Neighbor shootings, murder and boosting Its fear engaged, with a fury and rage For my lost generation in these last days The fear that haunts you! It's the tool that's used to hunt you! |
|||||
|
