Black Crocs (feat. Poncho Hoolius & King Kaiju)

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CrossJoint

3:08

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Back the f*ck up from me, bitch I know you talkin' shit
Sneak dissin', smell like bitch, and I get that from your scent
Think you slick, 'til you slip and slide away like a snake, bitch
Caught in the tall grass, lawnmower blade bitch

Aye
I don't know what i'm saying
All i know is i'm faded
Wasted, like the days when i'm wasted
Clock ticking, everyday ain't the same shit

Living basic but i'm steady elevating weight up
1, 2, 4, that high, mid, low, get hit with the mix-up
Mishima is in my blood, that Devil Jin he creepin up
Your blood is seeping out of your skull, man you fucked up

I thought I told y'all bitches that I play the game
Bitch, i'm in God Mode, I'mma take your health away
You was late, slip and combo carry to the wall
Okizeme, bet you do not know what that shit is at all

What
Knowledge what you missing, that's gon' be your downfall
If you f*ck up, then get fucked up that's gon' be your damn fault
You thought you was better, but you didn't know its war
I'm a monster draped in armor, you a tiny barking dog

With your soft-serve headass, think you hard, you a sweetheart
Sour diesel in the wood, tasting like a sweet tart
B.N.B.G. still pimpin' out in Beechmont
Two bitches bouncing on my lap like i'm a see-saw

Weed strong, you ain't got what we got
Cold heart like my blood mixed with Freon
Poncho, why you gotta be a asshole
Cuz i don't give a f*ck about my life, bitch that's why

Brace for impact, this lyrical slaughter might leave your neck snapped
You rolling dice with life, you ain't ready to get this head crack
No setbacks, i'm high as a hippie strapped with a jetpack
But pressed for more progression, i'm trying to make sure this check fat

These clout demons fiendin' for features and lessons in the game
But first thing i'll let you know, we wasn't made the same
I'll spit a hot 16 and have to dispose your remains
Then probably hit the crib to change my clothes so no one sees the stains

I'm so insane, so if you don't understand it, don't strain your brain
You Plain Jane ad lib rappers some trash, and you sound the same
You playing games and you don't know the meta
You better change, or switch lanes
Because i'm low on gas from just flaming you lames 

You dying slow, i hope you feel the anguish
And all of the pain, you don't deserve to clutch a mic
You pussy rappers need a brain, or cellophane 
The way i hit like acid rain in hurricanes
I'm inhumane the way i'm killing shit, this murder was your fate

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