Lyrics:
with America's #1 DJ, Funkmaster Flex
In collaboration with America's, pardon me, #1 independent rap label, Dipset
And right now I'm accompanied by
getting' harassed by the Jake
Blasted with eight times five, plus one
Lethal deposit, reach for your wallet, they bust guns
That's why I trust none
Yo, in my mind I realized can't none of y'all niggas fuck with me
She fucked me once, looked me in my eyes and told me, now you stuck with me
Death
Some man say it's a psycho ting
But them man are fake on a lypo ting
Us man are big dargs, them a Michael 'ting
Roll by on a cycle ting
Man better take
get to kiss her child
Father won’t get to see her smile
Little hands can you hold on tight
You saw death, now it’s in her eyes
I don’t want to see you
hinten
Denn sie kennt den New York Times-Artikel
„Jewish Rapper Takes On Germany's Hip-Hop Scene“
Back from the death wie der Sensenmannrücken
Keine
know somewhere my life won't be like this.
Pulling out the poison with a kiss on the bottle's lips
Sing la da da daa la da da da la da da da la daa
your legs and I kiss your ass good by
Soldiers ride, b.a.m soldiers die b.a.m
By any means
Soldiers end up where they want to be b.a.m
By any means
like la, la, la, la
From the same city as the B-I-G
Wanna serve these bars, gotta see ID
Now I'm on their radar, where it beat I be
Was a slave for
Sarah told Jackson and he told Emily
Wildlife rumors spread
Your little false got back to me
I wanna hear you say it
Tell me will you be the death
out to get the riches
Live it to the fullest till we dead and sleeping with the fishes
Rolling with my brothers you would think we get a death kiss
If you think that I missed
A thing that you said
I've been listening in
And I'm pissed
So this is a kiss of death on your lips
If you linger
[Cocking of a gun, followed by gunshot repeated throughout.]
Bone thugs-n-harmony. I know you niggas been waitin' for this for a
long time. Well, here it
punk, slack up.
Watch your weak posse before they get smacked up.
One by one, two by two, three by, Yo P
[Parrish]
What's Up E.D.?
Pass
like a chisel in them cave walls
A thousand years later, they can break a voicemail
When death calls, won't answer to no one
Came up in this bitch by
What? Like bitches castin' spells
You should drag my soul to hell
Bitch I got death notes and broken bones
I'll kiss and wish you well
If you want me, I
on a shirt momma miss you
I just brought all these guns boy I wish you
Would try a nigga fist fights I don be there
My tooth chip for a reason walking out
Woo bitch
Boutta hit ‘chu with another one
Sliding out the swamp
With a motherfucking tommy gun
Poppin’ off at double-crossing
Pussy-footing toddlers
and by
That should keep you on your toes
They got a gun at your head
But you ain't necessarily playing their game
They can't resist
A gypsy's kiss
and by
That should keep you on your toes
They got a gun at your head
But you ain't necessarily playing their game
They can't resist
A Gypsy's Kiss
at em
Feelin' like De La Cruz, Uh, I'm runnin' and slidin'
These bitches never just know, I gotta get it by noon, I got the package
Me and my team we
You ready to tongue kiss with the blue fo'fo'?
What's up fuck nigga say somethin
Set your crime, we ready to spray somethin
Gun play, how I got
card was played
And the devil watched someone get paid
For the death of de la Cruz
Thirty years ago in the same damn spot
The people who ordered
Arabic first name
Disturbed by the fame just like Kurt Cobain
Breath of life, kiss of death, my lips pursed the same
You flirt 'til she came
Nothin'
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