Testo The Archer - Killa Sin
Testo della canzone The Archer (Killa Sin), tratta dall'album The Man with the Iron Fists (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)
They call me the drama starter, heart stopper
Llama popper, I got ya
Gangster imposters calling the coppers and ducking the rockets
Optic, dig in my pocket, cock it, empty your block
Bitch you hear me?
The semi toxic like Remy that's rockless
Have you shriveled up in shock
Sick, no screaming I'm shot
Nigga
Like Pusha T and Malice, nigga
I got clips
And shells that'll lock lips
For kicking that Pac shit
Then slam through your body like they stuck in a mosh pit
A born again rebel in the flesh
Do it to the death
Bleed heat meaning I won't rest
Till I'm fluidless
Niggas be like, "Yo, you the best"
Nah, I'm just one of them
You fuck nigga rappers be running like I pulled a gun on them
Call me daddy, I'm sonning them
Badly, burn badly
Sign suckers up for Gangster Academy
So they mad at me
A G checker, reject quick
Demand my respect like Decech
Make birds niggas dip
I clear your p-jects
Yeah, your boy sweet techs, not steps
Head shot, cheek, neck, knees, chest
Long as them bullets meet flesh
You've competed to meet death
Killa did it and beat death
I dance with the devil right now, I'm letting my feet rest
Tonka tough, cold bunkers'll bust
And a monstrous conqueror crush comp to dust
Fucking niggas sponsors up
Diamond cut rhyming in my prime
Blind the minders
Steady digging in my style for one liners
None finer, unsigned or compromised
Word bond, a brother's on the mind
Shorten life spans like father time
Hard to find another artist that go hard as I
And I got a heart of iron
Leave niggas like March of Dimes rappers, don't get shot for trying
Everybody wanna shine
My fire one of a kind
Inspire brothers to rhyme soon as I utter a line
Gun nigga, mighty Joe Young blow gorilla bars
Killa far from a con, don amongst the realist stars
Known for giving niggas scars
Goon work, maroon shirts and tools inserted in your private parts
You could die tomorrow, better yet today
You better pray for better ways to get away
When my Beretta spray
I'm known for giving lead away
Young niggas with head of grey hairs
Man I swear I could send you to a better place
Where nobody'll set a trace
And cheers for your tears
Duke yo' hairs till your shot's fired
And rot in peace till y'all police love is rocking wires
Credits
Writer(s): Adam King Feeney, Jeryl Grant
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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