Killer

Album: Music to Be Murdered By: Side B (2020)
Charted: 62
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  • (Killer)
    Yeah
    I'm a (boy's crazy), I'm a cold-blooded (killer)
    Made all this money from doin' this (yeah, look)
    (d.a. got that dope)

    Now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty
    Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money
    Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny
    Earn it just to burn it, swag drip

    I used to rock a toboggan
    Headphones around my neck, tryna be like Shady
    Now the phone that's in my pocket seem to keep vibratin'
    I got all these Ronnie Bennetts tryna be my baby
    Tryna fiancée me
    I take the steering wheel and drive them girls beyond crazy (crazy)
    I'm on a song with my idol
    I'm a cold-blooded version of the song title
    I put these diamonds in the ring like they was Shawn Michaels
    I can't put the Louis V inside the wash cycle
    I take this shit to the cleaners
    'Bout to cop me a Bimmer, I got a special demeanor
    She was mine when I seen her, I'm gettin' meaner and meaner
    Called the front desk and asked for a steamer
    I'm a bitch bagger, not a Twitch streamer
    I'm eatin' pizza in Little Italy, damn, I used to hit Caesars
    She 'bout to finish, but wait a minute, it gets deeper
    Same kid just a bit sleeker

    Yeah, now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty
    Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money
    Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny
    Earn it just to burn it (listen, uh)

    They say my killing's horrendous, "How he still in the business?"
    Rich as hell and it's feelin' tremendous
    Ma dukes chillin' in Venice, compliments of her eldest, the cynic
    Give hell with these writtens, this shit only propel my ascension
    I held my position in any situation that's needed
    This year I'm shittin' on niggas for the way we was treated
    I see the impact of all my creations increasin'
    My step in time with these Pantheons, it all was divine
    I'm in this moment of my life where shit is fallin' in line
    And lookin' back, I swear to God, you'd think it all was designed
    A true movie script, I can't really ever fuck no groupie bitch
    All she got is diamonds on her mind on some Uzi shit
    A whole generation of geniuses I'm influencin'
    I only hang with real niggas who I'm congruent with
    I manifest nothing less than the best outcome
    Just watch my moves with this next album, nigga

    Now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty
    Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money
    Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny
    Earn it just to burn it, swag drippin' from me

    My sentences are harsh, every single's bar's like a verdict
    I say it with conviction, but this time you're not gonna serve it
    But as soon as I read it, you know that you're about to get murdered
    When I cap, it'll punish, then put you in a box like a juror (haha)
    If there's a rapper I haven't ate (where?)
    We ain't battled, either that or they won't collaborate
    'Cause pad or paper freestyle will settle that debate (yup)
    I call it guillotine style 'cause even off the head, I decapitate
    Yeah, bitch, I go harder than Carter III (what?)
    But I think your thottie just thought of me
    She got a body and bottom like Cardi B
    And she be stalking me like I was broccoli
    I'm getting brain now like a lobotomy
    You probably thinkin' you had that shit in the bag like it's colostomy (what?)
    It's a red alert, you better skrrt or try to get on my level first
    Bitch, I'd had to shovel dirt and dig a hole to get on yours
    You bum-bum (haha), look at your broke ass (yeah)
    It's why you're a bum-bum (why?) 'cause your shit is so ass (yeah)
    Syllable gun-guns (chk-chk), spits and goes "Hadoo" (doo)
    Only L that I ever took was when I lost Proof (yeah)
    Only time that I ever got served is that lawsuit when Ma sued (what?)
    But, bitch, get out of pocket and I might accost you (accost you)
    Homicides up the wazoo
    (Chain) chain gaudy, probably got more bodi-odi-odies than John do (John do)
    I just called Snoop and I talked to him (What?), we all cool (yeah)
    Dre, me and the Dogg good, Doc, we got you
    Got a castle with a solid gold floor (what?)
    No I don't, I don't even got a boat nor
    Do I got a chauffeur, but a lot to show for
    You don't wanna fuck around and start no war (nah)
    Twenty more years, I could probably go for
    Just like your lip and you got a cold sore
    My shit is like motherfuckin' herpes
    You ain't ever gonna say I don't got it no more (bitch)
    Literally it's no quittin' me, you kiddin' me?
    Dyin' laughin' is the only way you're killin' me
    I'm gettin' rid of ya, get clapped like chlamydia
    The wittiest, bitch, I'll snap like a tibia
    You wanna get silly with the bars? I'm frivolous
    But I'm as gritty and litty as my city is
    East side 'til I die, bitch, I will rep 'til the end like a chameleon
    Got a killer instinct with the pen's ink and they're in sync like a faucet
    How the fuck do I even think of this ridiculous shit?
    I'm a quarter of a century deep and I can't be beat (nah)
    'Til the day me and the grim reap meet, I'm ten toes down 'til I'm six feet deep (what?)
    Windows down in the Benz E jeep, hollerin' at a bimbo, beep-beep-beep
    She said she fucks with the M-T-B to the M-B: Side B Slim CD
    I can see why you envy me, you get no ass like an empty seat (haha)
    So this shit comes with a warning for all you punks and you corny
    Little fucks, I woke up on my fuck shit this morning

    Now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty
    Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money
    Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny
    Earn it just to burn it, swag drippin' from me

    Yeah, I'm a (Killer)
    Yeah, I'm a what, I'm a cold-blooded (killer) Writer/s: David L. Doman, Ezemdi Chinaecherem Chikwendu, Marshall Mathers, Cordae Amari Dunston, Jackman Thomas Harlow
    Publisher: Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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