Lyrics Blow Ya Head Off - Apathy, Marvalyss, Blacastan

Blow Ya Head Off

If I had a dollar bill for every sucker that I killed
I’d be sitting on a mil blood and guts in my grill
Hot as hell, I wasn’t born with the ability to chill
I don’t care what people say, Bun B think I’m trill
Killmatic, spillin' acid out my mouth, I’m a dragon
I’m snatching all your gold, I’m Bilbo Baggins
(Is you the Hobbit, bitch?) I’m the king of the apocalypse
Conquerin' your planet while my posse push rocket ships
Motherfucker I’m from H-E-Double Hockey Sticks
Trainin' harder than the Russian in them Rocky flicks
Overload the computer, overflowin' the sewer
Overthrowin' the ruler, cut your fuckin'
Head off like Tortuga, I’m white as a Stormtrooper
IPhone porn shooter, dominating whore abuser
With power like the sun from 93 mil
This is how we kill from '93 til
Murder, murder everything, nobody’s standin'
I’m a black hole in your soul slowly expandin'
I’m the crop circle maker where the mothership’s landing
I’m a ghost who’s lampin' in an abandoned mansion
Watch the news while I drop these jewels
I got tubes in my veins full of rocket fuel
And for the flock who snooze, rock snot box of crews
I pop shots at cops and cover forensic clues
And blow your head off, just for asking
«Who's the one rapping?»
(POO POW)
Cock back the hammer
And blow your head off, just for asking
«Who's the one rapping?»
(POO POW)
Cock back the hammer
I know you artists is breathin' but I’m the illest alive
I’m J Dilla with bars, Gil Scott with the rhymes
Paint pictures on the paper, this inoculate mind
Slow down your train of thought, at the drop of a dime
This rhyme patterin', I’m staggerin' at top of the lines
Is parallel to the crosshairs on the top of the 9
I know you dyin' for a spot at the roster to shine
Congrats, they lookin' for the next vagina to sign
Been in the game for some time, paid the usual dues
I torch wedders, Bar Mitzvahs and funerals too
I’m underground, ain’t no other way of keepin' it true
And when death is the consolation, it’s a beautiful view
Enigmatic, I spark in the booth and split static
Get clipped from a pager with a twitch and drug habit
Buck 50 with the RZA, I ain’t talking bout the Abbot
From a block away, I can knock the hinges off your casket
It’s open door policy, modus operandi
My syllabus was scripted in the tombs on a land mine
These emcees don’t want me to rap
But say nothin', powder-puffs don’t want me to snap
The epicenter of atrocity, high velocity rocketry
Tommy John any jerk-off thinkin' he stoppin' me
The prophecy was properly pinned, you niggas scared of it
And gun’s in your mouth, like you talk arabic
And blow your head off, just for asking
«Who's the one rapping?»
(POO POW)
Cock back the hammer
And blow your head off, just for asking
«Who's the one rapping?»
(POO POW)
Cock back the hammer
I’m the shogun’s decapitator, detonator, activator
Blaca-stanley Kubrick, outstanding imaginator
(6 minutes, Blacastan, you’re on)
I crack your skull open, and serve your brain like flan
Who shot ya?
Bullets blow the fuse out your chakras
Lights out, still tryin' to rhyme when the mic’s out
Chase you through the woods like Blair Witch
Grab you by the hair bitch, then burn pentagrams on your queer tits
Snatch your ghost right outta your torso
Who da best?
(Prime Minister Blac) Niggas I thought so
My waves stay spinnin' like the rims at a car show
The golden child lampin' in a temple in Tibet
I’m Eddie Murphy spittin' game at a dragon silhouette
I douse you, then burn your eyelids with cigarettes
Like Colossus, my fists smash the globe like a comet
Islamic, I wrote this with the passion of Muhammed
And blow your head off, just for asking
«Who's the one rapping?»
(POO POW)
Cock back the hammer
And blow your head off, just for asking
«Who's the one rapping?»
(POO POW)
Cock back the hammer