1000 Corpses
You know, I gotta tell you
That's some catchphrase you got there
Devil's Rejects
Look
Empty out the Kel-Tec, 'til ain't a shell left
Bullets burn, I can smell flesh, I can smell death
I inhale the last L right on hell's steps (okay)
Devil's Reject, fuck you expect? Listen
I got too many guns, and not enough drama
So I'm broad day in the hood, popping the llama (let's go)
I get the blocks from papi, then I holler hasta mañana (papi)
Eating pasta like a mobster, silk Prada pajamas
I've got to be out of my fucking mind (okay)
I'll have B-Wiz sniff another fucking line and break your fucking spine (okay)
I'm back around, graduated from the school of Hard Knocks
And got a brick and a pistol, instead of a cap and gown
A couple choppa shots will back them down
Waving the K like, "Look at me, I am the Captain now" (hahaha)
Thought you had racks homie, what happened now? (damn)
You take a loss and have more excuses than Pacquiao (hah)
Ask around, you fuck niggas I smack around
My Don C Bulls jacket smell like a pack of loud (you smell it)
My bitch double C, it's Chanel bagging now
Giuseppe on her feet, i8 Bimmer, she swagging now (she swagging now)
Hundred bags a week, that's on average now
Sending cookies from Cali', I'm waiting on a package now
I only came to snatch the crown from whoever has it
I don't fuck with these faggot niggas that's rapping now (fuck these niggas, man)
Jump out of the coupe with something to shoot inside (okay)
So run up on me, you're committing suicide (okay)
I built a reputation niggas can't scrutinize
APCs, shattered back boards, hoodies Superdry (woo)
Medusa on the buckle, Gator on the brim
I pull up on your corner, shit's spraying from a Benz (brrt)
It's funny how you only feel betrayal from a friend
It's never the enemy, they hate you from within (real)
This for them niggas that play with the razors in the pen (my nigga)
My bars sharp, I write with razors in my pen (woo)
My little bro will put the gauge up to your chin
He gon' wait 'til I say when, but his patience's running thin
Look, I am the illest, I am the realest
I ain't a rapper, I am a killer, I am a menace
Listen, I have completed what you're trying to finish
I'm aiming at your cap, trying to peel it
It's the Machine, bitch
It's the Machine, bitch
(Griselda by fashion rebels)
That's some catchphrase you got there
Devil's Rejects
Look
Empty out the Kel-Tec, 'til ain't a shell left
Bullets burn, I can smell flesh, I can smell death
I inhale the last L right on hell's steps (okay)
Devil's Reject, fuck you expect? Listen
I got too many guns, and not enough drama
So I'm broad day in the hood, popping the llama (let's go)
I get the blocks from papi, then I holler hasta mañana (papi)
Eating pasta like a mobster, silk Prada pajamas
I've got to be out of my fucking mind (okay)
I'll have B-Wiz sniff another fucking line and break your fucking spine (okay)
I'm back around, graduated from the school of Hard Knocks
And got a brick and a pistol, instead of a cap and gown
A couple choppa shots will back them down
Waving the K like, "Look at me, I am the Captain now" (hahaha)
Thought you had racks homie, what happened now? (damn)
You take a loss and have more excuses than Pacquiao (hah)
Ask around, you fuck niggas I smack around
My Don C Bulls jacket smell like a pack of loud (you smell it)
My bitch double C, it's Chanel bagging now
Giuseppe on her feet, i8 Bimmer, she swagging now (she swagging now)
Hundred bags a week, that's on average now
Sending cookies from Cali', I'm waiting on a package now
I only came to snatch the crown from whoever has it
I don't fuck with these faggot niggas that's rapping now (fuck these niggas, man)
Jump out of the coupe with something to shoot inside (okay)
So run up on me, you're committing suicide (okay)
I built a reputation niggas can't scrutinize
APCs, shattered back boards, hoodies Superdry (woo)
Medusa on the buckle, Gator on the brim
I pull up on your corner, shit's spraying from a Benz (brrt)
It's funny how you only feel betrayal from a friend
It's never the enemy, they hate you from within (real)
This for them niggas that play with the razors in the pen (my nigga)
My bars sharp, I write with razors in my pen (woo)
My little bro will put the gauge up to your chin
He gon' wait 'til I say when, but his patience's running thin
Look, I am the illest, I am the realest
I ain't a rapper, I am a killer, I am a menace
Listen, I have completed what you're trying to finish
I'm aiming at your cap, trying to peel it
It's the Machine, bitch
It's the Machine, bitch
(Griselda by fashion rebels)
Credits
Writer(s): Demond Price, Thomas A Paladino
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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