Lyrics 3 Minute Murder - Chris Brown, Yo Gotti, Waka Flocka Flame

3 Minute Murder

Twis' got skill, yes I kill
I get wild on they ass like Buffalo Bill
I be winnin' in the game like them niggas in the south
If a nigga talkin' shit I’m quick to hit em in the mouth
Them lyrics that’s the shit I be equipped to spit 'em out
And I’mma make a nigga sick cause I got venom in the mouth
Antonyms and synonyms are spinnin' him out of his route
And I got bricks of money, bitch and I can’t fit em in the couch
Kill 'em with the ride paints hard with the deep dish
Kill 'em with syllables quick wit 8 bars in a sequence
I am the bid’ness I gotta charge you to peep this
Niggas can’t see me I’m Ray Charles or a eclipse
Stevie in the blackout see me with the Mack out
Twista gon' get money like a GD in a crack house
When it come to flows I’mma spit 'em like they cold
When it come to niggas heads I’mma split it like a pole
Take away they swag and shit on they cocky style
Cuz my lyrics be too quick they call me Twista Pacquiao
come solo wit my k-olo
When you see my logo come take my photo when I’m on promo
Niggas wanna get me they better pick a new regimen
Shit too sick B somebody better go get you medicine
Not bringin' up Twista I’m makin' the issue relevant
Balls bigger than mine better go get two elephants
I be getting grimy but you and yo click too elegant
Beat yo face up till yo jaw tissue look like a pelican
I be steady whoopin' yo ass just fo' the hell of it
Can’t nobody fuck wit me the planet is celibate
I kick a hot flow, get it like Harpo
Brief when I rhyme teeth shine like a car show
Wit a thick bitch, go 'head check out my cargo
You know one gon' be wit me wherever my car go
Where yo baby at, where yo white Mercedes at?
I’ll let u borrow the Bentley as long as you bring it back
Here, a couple stacks, you ain’t gotta pay me back
Me and yo boss kick it and he know where the ladies at
Whether we comin' and killin' and murderin' cause I beat down the block
Or because I’m like «throw ya hands up» cause it’s hip hop
I’d rather be rappin' about the streets and makin' a quick pot
But it’s time to do something so the shorties don’t get popped
Meanwhile back to the lab I got the desert eagle
Come on yo muthafuckin tip and kill eleven people
Throw up on a priest let him know I ain’t no reverend
Either dat I go where the fuck I want I’m up in heaven evil
You ain’t gotta tell me I know I spit bars sick
E-mail, anthrax, flows kick arsenic
G-up genie and throw it up I’m car sick
Cut raw dope deez nigga cut garbage
Lethargic give a bitch hard dick
See my niggas and I say «salute» like a sergeant
Can’t lie I’m one of the coldest artists
So I wouldn’t have yo bitch up in my apartment
So I be passin' out «fuck you» flyers
To fakers and heaters and then fuck liars
If yo' shit ain’t one been one minded
The swine flu H1N1 virus
Am I like Jason?
No I’m more like Michael Myers
I am the shit I need to wear diapers
When I spit it sometimes I’m all too philosophical
Blame it on the Don Julio and killer tropical
Twista got more swag than a rich sissy
But don’t get prissy muthafuckas can get grilly
I’mma balla and a boss and yes I’m finna get paid
Takin' flames to the head like I’m Nicolas Cage
I ghost ride the whip I’m finna get laid
Any niggas dat try to get me is finna get sprayed
One day it’s possible dat I’m finna get saved
But for now I be getting money I’m finna get made, muthafucka
Fucka.
.fucka.. fucka.
.fucka