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kxng crooked - drum murder pt. 2 lyrics
[intro: kxng crooked]
s-x, money & hip hop
drum murder part 2
c.o.b vs. everybody
demetrius
[verse 1: demetrius]
yo, the yakuza and mafia done possed up
and n-gga the five of us
are the cryptographers for the hip hop photographers
diabolical autobiographers
all of us coughing up corn
cause we throwing up a c.o.b you copiers
[verse 2: dice]
put you in a sarcophagus when i chop your esophagus
i’m an ominous optimist
i guess i’m megatron in this b-tch
we can play chicken while you in the tank
i have you lifting weights at lunch time pumping on your brakes
[verse 3: kenny]
find me in your place with your maid humping on her face
let her get a taste while i lay puffing on a j
high as a h-llo, i keep a ill beau
right by my motherf-cking side like my elbow
[verse 4: julius]
hi n-gga, h-llo
rappers come meet dracula dagger his t–th stabbin’ ya
drink half of ya plasma
my victims sink in a deep sleep thinking that he’s havin’
a dream weezing while breathing like people with sleep apnea
[verse 5: kxng crooked]
lucci the streets back me up
literally the realest n-ggas behind us
while labels are giving n-ggas v-g-n-s
a s-x change in exchange for a record deal
then d-ck ’em with a smile that’s how they k!ll n-ggas with kindness
[verse 5: julius]
i got a mental condition
my mentals conditioned to slip into
mental conniptions whenever spittin’ is mentioned
my spit was whipped in the kitchen
it’s dope, get you addicted
your ambition don’t exist like b-tches who strip for tuition
[verse 6: dice]
yo i’m a glitch in the system my lyricism the kiss of death
i got a crystal clear method of rhyming call it crystal meth
we can make a mix tape in six days and on the seventh day
you’ll be resting in peace, that’s when we dig graves
[verse 7: demetrius]
liquid metal metamorphosis my fist’ll shift shapes
into a sword or switchblade to test -ssorted switch blades
you was born b-tch-made, immaculate conception
this editor’s edgar allen with aggression
i grew up poe
[verse 8: dice]
i’ll k!ll your soul before your -ss can get to heaven
catch you at the crossroads, that’s how we crashing intersections
speaking of traffic accidents i’m fittin’ to be trafficking and wreckin’
you get naked with f-ggots, you toss salad without dressing
[verse 9: kxng crooked]
you ain’t violent without blessing, it’s the vatican
you c.o.b. traitors and haters made a darth vader out of an anakin
they panickin’, they stiff as a mannequin
just make a move and become a man again
but i still peel your head quicker than anacin
[verse 10: kenny]
i sit and concoct the wickedest plots, sinister thoughts
grinning a lot, gripping my glock, l!cking my chops
i play garbage man and trash talk, scratched off this black hawk
and make you back off or blow your back off
[verse 11: julius]
i blast off n-gga don’t p-ss me the hookah
p-ss me the ruger it’s a rap like pashmina
you the past i’m the future i’m p-ssed nina kruger
toss you off the roof, i’ll pac’s last scene in juice ya
[verse 12: demetrius]
yo -ss seen medusa cause n-gga i petrify you
it was meant for me to genocide you n-gga it’s in the bible
meant for me to roll up and blaze you
that’s why bible pages feel like zig zag paper
n-gga i flame ya!
[verse 13: kenny]
not even ya savior can save ya
this gauge’ll place you in the past like a pager or sega
i’ll ride your chick like a freeway before i peel off
i’ll treat her face like a exit, this where i get off
[verse 14: kxng crooked]
we can have a spit off
i smack the colostomy bag of a handicapped rapper
if he don’t knock the sh-t off
cause ya’ll so irrelavent
187 i’m sending you to heaven for the h-ll of it
everything a square represents
me and my circle we rebel against
with reckless neglegence
me and the horseshoe gang
we got more chemistry than the periodic table of elements
we flow showing intelligence and eloquence
still set you up for that cheddar since
you forever snitch
k!ll you in your sleep all i need is a clever b-tch
now your bed is drenched when that beretta’s clenched
smell the stench of a dead rat for dropping dimes for a mere penny
that eleven cents got you hung over the bull
i call it merryl lynch
white paint over the face for dead presidents
ever since we came we been the best, you can’t ignore it
but that elephant in the room is prehistoric
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