Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Slang Killaz, artist - 9th Prince. Date of issue: 27.05.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Slang Killaz |
| Hmm. |
| oooh. |
| ooh. |
| Killa Beez. |
| Killarmy. |
| Eh-yo |
| A Soviet deep in Paris, Playboy rabbits want carrots |
| Luxury marriage, 9th ain’t havin it |
| I keep the forty-five automatic like Mathematics |
| Start terminatin savages, I’m raw like 'caine to easy addicts |
| Street tactics, million dollar caskets |
| On biblical war, perform Michael Jackson Thriller but way iller |
| A slave killer, protected by Shaolin and Brooklyn Zu guerillas |
| Under my pillow, I sleep with grenades, untraceable heaters |
| Lay deeper than scientific readers |
| My cipher sounds will ding pound, I blast you on ya nightgown |
| Kidnap ya child, might give him to the crowd |
| On my way Uptown in my '95 Millenium |
| Seen Killa Sin and 'em, let niggas sound feminine |
| Remember 9th Prince ill forever, I get up in 'em |
| My style is like runnin' up in small town banks |
| Bulletproof tanks, never bust blanks |
| Always suffer with shank |
| Killa Beez. |
| we will sting you. |
| Killa Beez. |
| Killarmy. |
| Aiyo aiyo once again |
| We stingin' y’all mothafuckas cuz I don’t give a flyin' fuck |
| About none of y’all niggas out here |
| Cuz if you ain’t none of my mothafuckin' Killarmy comrades |
| Fuck y’all! |
| Yo, check the topic to this essay |
| It’s murder in the first, ese? |
| As I bust a slug through yo' fragile statue |
| And that’s actual, precise timed and on point like a marksman |
| Four-four, rubber grip, Summer of Sam specialist, so take this |
| Four-hunded grain thought that’ll pierce ya cranium |
| From the rear, I don’t give a fuck, this is my year |
| I’m takin this rap shit back from the wack |
| Fuck who you are kid, fuck where you representin at |
| Cuz basically my mentality is on some '93 shit |
| When you had to Protect Ya Neck in this shit |
| To be an MC, now it’s al about the tight clothes |
| Crossed over flows, platinum jewelery to get a plaque in the industry |
| But never the I-S-L-to the O-R-D |
| I keep my shit muddy like my Timbs be, you fake ass MC’s |
| Killa Beez. |
| Killarmy. |
| Killa Beez. |
| we will sting you. |
| Aiyo Terrorist |
| I’m on the block like any man |
| The difference between me and you is I understand |
| You askin' questions, «What's that shit up in my hand?» |
| Answer your questions, I fire that shit up in ya pan |
| Bitch nigga, understand? |
| I’m the P-R-T, era is this |
| His lyrics are unique and his vocals are crisp |
| Bang that shit in ya Jeeps or on ya block with the fifth |
| So front on his, kid, front on this |
| 'Til I could let this shit that’s in my hand light up my wrist |
| And let this shit descend in like E-V ya chest |
| I’m far from the best, I’m more like the worst you ever seen |
| Spit green phlegm from blood same color as my jeans |
| And my boots’ll be brown, get up, the street’s down |
| Let the beat hound cuz beef pound, 'round the block |
| This is hip-hop, niggas fucked around and went pop |
| Killa Beez. |
| Killarmy. |
| (x3) |
| Killa Beez. |
| we will sting you. |