[ VERSE 1: Vakill ] I come from a land where the apex Of man evolves back to ape necks every eight sec's Tecs have fetishes for bullet hole gape sex Latex is placed on trigger hands, when finger-fuckin we leave no finger prints Shit, my nigga caught a close range, close quarters, closed casket I'm haunted by the questions his ghost askin: (When your toast blastin? I wanna see a violin his throat slashin Wanna see you ride with a devout passion Revoke passes, use acid when provoked, soak masses I wanna see you go out in gunsmoke spazzin In a go-for-broke fashion Make him choke from the blood in the throat gaspin Grasp a icepick and slowly poke gashes Make him cough up puss when you quote classics I want bodies flyin like planes and boat crashes Crackin jokes while my spirit float past him) I feel you, that's just what I aim to do On your life before I squeeze I'ma tell him that I came for you
I'm still in the mood to show and prove that the crown don't move
[ VERSE 2: Vakill ] Exceed sick, nigga If it ain't six figures disfigure's permanent Terminate, whether 16's or click-blickers Spit triggers, a sick psychosis My focus 90% Geico-ish - my eyes on that money, nigga The game too docile, this hostel the beats My gospel the streets, fuck around, you a fossil beneath Spit a virus too hostile to treat Findin survivors is like Bedrock break pads, nigga, impossible feat And a lotta new niggas can't stand me I hear the hate that they hand me Like, "He ain't that amazin flow-wise" But learn one thing Only two ways that a pussy could earn its wings They don't make Allways in yo size My story's the pain that last underneath scars Brokeback, I'll rob vending machines if I want Heath bars You speak delirium, my flow equilibrium, peak's imperial Now plus this eagle equals 'Here he come - be wearisome'
I'm still in the mood to show and prove that the crown don't move
[ VERSE 3: Vakill ] Long as the economy remain stagnant aim Magnums At you pain magnets, scatter his brain fragments At a distance forensics just ain't baggin him It's Chi ritual, it's habitual when I empty every mag in 'em My city don't sleep, its eyes got heavy bags in 'em Fiends dodgin coppers for copper and spitters want platinum The term 'pig' is an acronym - pussies itching with guns Scared of every nigga with a tilted or backwards brim It's dirty job season, niggas ain't got no prob squeezin Find yo head missin for some odd reason Freeze and bow when you in the lord's presence Speakin of blessings - when I spit it it's hard to address it like God sneezin Lord help us, niggas hungry and can't afford shelters We only cut the deck with the sword dealt us Nice but at times I wish that more felt us So fuck it, I'm trigger-aimin too Shit, my kids need food and I came for you
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Copy to Clipboard: [ VERSE 1: Vakill ] I come from a land where the apex Of man evolves back to ape necks every eight sec's Tecs have fetishes for bullet hole gape sex Latex is placed on trigger hands, when finger-fuckin we leave no finger prints Shit, my nigga caught a close range, close quarters, closed casket I'm haunted by the questions his ghost askin: (When your toast blastin? I wanna see a violin his throat slashin Wanna see you ride with a devout passion Revoke passes, use acid when provoked, soak masses I wanna see you go out in gunsmoke spazzin In a go-for-broke fashion Make him choke from the blood in the throat gaspin Grasp a icepick and slowly poke gashes Make him cough up puss when you quote classics I want bodies flyin like planes and boat crashes Crackin jokes while my spirit float past him) I feel you, that's just what I aim to do On your life before I squeeze I'ma tell him that I came for you
I'm still in the mood to show and prove that the crown don't move
[ VERSE 2: Vakill ] Exceed sick, nigga If it ain't six figures disfigure's permanent Terminate, whether 16's or click-blickers Spit triggers, a sick psychosis My focus 90% Geico-ish - my eyes on that money, nigga The game too docile, this hostel the beats My gospel the streets, fuck around, you a fossil beneath Spit a virus too hostile to treat Findin survivors is like Bedrock break pads, nigga, impossible feat And a lotta new niggas can't stand me I hear the hate that they hand me Like, "He ain't that amazin flow-wise" But learn one thing Only two ways that a pussy could earn its wings They don't make Allways in yo size My story's the pain that last underneath scars Brokeback, I'll rob vending machines if I want Heath bars You speak delirium, my flow equilibrium, peak's imperial Now plus this eagle equals 'Here he come - be wearisome'
I'm still in the mood to show and prove that the crown don't move
[ VERSE 3: Vakill ] Long as the economy remain stagnant aim Magnums At you pain magnets, scatter his brain fragments At a distance forensics just ain't baggin him It's Chi ritual, it's habitual when I empty every mag in 'em My city don't sleep, its eyes got heavy bags in 'em Fiends dodgin coppers for copper and spitters want platinum The term 'pig' is an acronym - pussies itching with guns Scared of every nigga with a tilted or backwards brim It's dirty job season, niggas ain't got no prob squeezin Find yo head missin for some odd reason Freeze and bow when you in the lord's presence Speakin of blessings - when I spit it it's hard to address it like God sneezin Lord help us, niggas hungry and can't afford shelters We only cut the deck with the sword dealt us Nice but at times I wish that more felt us So fuck it, I'm trigger-aimin too Shit, my kids need food and I came for you
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