Killuminati (feat. Capital Steez)

(Yes, skrawberries)

I'm a beast with these flows
Two birds, one stoned, you get geese'd when trees rolled
They say I'm evil 'cause I trained my ego to see gold
'Cause he know, seagulls couldn't see these goals, please
It's the return of the Beast Coast
No cash flashed, but the cheese still make teeth show
Incognito, is how you move on the strip
What you tryna be, Vito? Well, there's rules to this shit

Don't get clapped, y'all ain't real spitters, y'all lips chapped
Better watch it, Mr. Nice Watch, don't risk that
I got a six-pack of bare skill that I spill like that
And everybody know (that shit crack!)
Y'all niggas softspoken, down below choking
The type to drop the soap when you soakin' in front of most men
It makes sense why you want beef, well this frozen
It's nuts for you screwed in the tool, and can't hold 'em

Better shoot yourself Plaxico, because I'm next to go
The Progressive flows from New York to New Mexico
My lyrical span is what the fans is demandin'
Step into my box and that's exactly what'chu stand in
Ain't no half steppin' around me
And you gotta drown a fish before you clown me
The young cop killer, I'm that ill, so doc' will ya
Give me two shots for 2Pac killer, nigga

Soul searchin' 'til my flows are perfect
I ain't tryna be a slave to grow old from workin'
Sorry Bada$$, you lucky that I peeped it second
Tell them niggas keep it steppin' with they beat selection
Check the melodies, it's so heavenly
That shit'll get your hips to move with no 7D's
Audi-opium, can I bust soliloquies?
Got that shit mixed and mastered, both remedies

Grab a spoonful, we stirrin' up a pot
And you know we gotta serve it while it's hot
I'm flowin' like a volcano and drippin' verses off the top
Dirty cops still swervin' on the block
Lookin' for black kids, that spittin' up acid
It's in my jeans, so don't worry what my pants is
Get with the script, it's that ignorant shit
And they bound to get sick of us quick, but I ain't sealin' my lips

It's a shift, I know you feel it man
We blowin' up like a ceiling fan
Droppin' off jewels like Killa Cam's man
When it comes to kickin' verses, I'm Mr. Van Damme
Crushin' strawberries, it's a jam
So throw up both hands if you can
Ironic how I'm killin' this shit, until they bury me
My volume is going in depth with longevity
Stupid