You Gotta Love the Infamy (feat. Necro)

Now that I'm forced to spit come get your portion bitch, there's more of it
Stop making snake like moves like a contortionist
These LIL rappers are proof the game is flooded with kids
Wish I could turn back time and fist their mother to abort this shit
I ride or die for all my followers like Morpheus
You're only riding and smiling when you're on a dick
Pass me the coordinates and I will promise this
I will make these bitches bleed from every fucking orifice
I'm at the office giving orders to subordinates
Not like a boring corporate but like a capo war obsessed
This is a warning. Guess I'm just in time before the floor will split
And swallow the whole scene it's such gorgeous sight
Shit. I gave warning right? You're getting gored and sliced
My rhymes are like my crimes, perfectly organized
Everything I rap I wrote myself and also own the rights
Don't need ghost to write, cause I'm the motherfucking poltergeist

Fuck fame we still on top of the game
We will remain long after you dropped the craze
Fuck the industry they want our name
Like enemies of the state. You gotta love the infamy
Fuck fame we still on top of the game
We will remain long after you dropped the craze
Fuck the industry they want our name
Like enemies of the state

Another rapper shot, clapped in his top, the assailants will get locked up
Then bailed out, and go and crap on his plot
There's no respect, you wear a house on ya neck?
We'll tear it right off, bullets rip through ya bitches blouse with the TEC
Snitches get rewarded for crimes recorded
All of you new millennium rappers should have been aborted, you get extorted
Try to extort me you'll be left contorted, Aorta slaughtered
Distorted grill, cement shoes in water like Mob ordered, morbid
Stupid fucks now rockin' a Gucci tux in his coffin
Got set up by a slut and guess what? the coochie sucked
You didn't understand gang culture, should have watched where you hanged homie
Now you got banged by a vulture
Now you got a hole in you bitch, an Orangutan wit' an Ulcer
Barely got a pulse left, gore fest, Lucio Fulci
This ain't a game, this ain't Grand Auto Theft, this shit's real
Ya man's chest open blasted, Manslaughter death!

Fuck fame we still on top of the game
We will remain long after you dropped the craze
Fuck the industry they want our name
Like enemies of the state. You gotta love the infamy
Fuck fame we still on top of the game
We will remain long after you dropped the craze
Fuck the industry they want our name
Like enemies of the state. You gotta love the infamy