| It’s the Hunta Killa
|
| Off of the 9 skrilla
|
| Wit my nap sack fulla pilla
|
| Nigga worst than the movie Thrilla and realla
|
| Cause this is real life (that's right)
|
| I saw that nigga get his head tore off (by who?)
|
| By the same nigga that took his wife
|
| You know I come nutty stingin like syphillis
|
| You can get your liver split
|
| By your own bictch fuckin wit this
|
| Stay drunk when I dip and ain’t shit
|
| I got vast amounts
|
| Your ass’ll count em when I’m shootin em down your bitch’s mouth
|
| (Cause this the) Hunta Killa deal a lot
|
| And fuckin em shit shoes (wit the what?)
|
| Wit the nine and watchin the bloody nut come out everytime
|
| And you know it’s mine
|
| When I com through loomin
|
| Wit the MK-1 and when they done they lookin like sushi (Raw!)
|
| Wit the oozie I get the shit done
|
| You know it’s like velcro or polygrip
|
| I stick to the shit that make you nut up wit your dome split
|
| I want you to trip
|
| And I’ll be sittin right there wit the casket
|
| (You know!) you was at the wrong place at the right time then you got blasted
|
| (You hoe!) Hunta Killa in black mack-10 in the trunk with the slump
|
| I’ll hug you like mama
|
| When I use it it gotta be because I be off that juicy shit
|
| Not use to it I’m addicted to the siccness
|
| Might flip this nigga shit frequently
|
| Them young g’s they wanna speak to me
|
| (But what) but they don’t need to be
|
| I’ll have they hat quick
|
| Wit no pactice
|
| Put you in the trunk wit the slump stickin em like a cactus
|
| And I’m concentratin on stackin grip
|
| I got’s to hit you wit the slug
|
| No love bitch ass nigga you know
|
| It’s Hunta Killa (that's realla)
|
| Chorus: repeat 3X's
|
| Put you in duct tape and leave you sinkin in the river
|
| (Hunta Killa! Killa!)
|
| Put you in duct! |
| Put you in duct tape!
|
| Spent most of my time on the grind
|
| In the bucket wit a loaded tech nine
|
| On the corner lookin' out for the one time
|
| And these niggas from the othaside tryin to take mine
|
| Keep the heat on my waist line
|
| Make bullets chase niggas and erase fake niggas
|
| You can call me the grave digga
|
| Money go-getta all about the skrilla
|
| Cap pilla known for breakin in homes and gettin the goods
|
| Cross the line of the mastermind mothafucka I wish you would
|
| Got niggas in every hood and ready to go to war
|
| I’m gettin paid the way I should so what the fuck you hatin for
|
| Waistin time thinkin bout mine you should be gettin yours
|
| You den put yourself in some deep shit
|
| Now you hittin the floor when I come through
|
| Kickin down your door like a predator
|
| Spittin lyrics in metaphors
|
| All you rap cats thinkin you the shit
|
| My game’s 10 years ahead of yours
|
| And I’m headed for the top
|
| Lyrics don’t never stop
|
| So fuck whateva you talkin bout
|
| I’m takin over shit and I’m settin up shop
|
| Raisin niggas up out they spot
|
| All you bustas gotta go
|
| Now I’mma bust a bitch and let you know
|
| We can tear and war wit these scary hoes
|
| Wit a tech 9 to your dome
|
| It ain’t shit for me to run up in your home
|
| Wit the chrome take whateva the fuck I want then get gone
|
| I was born to be a rida known as a balla shot calla
|
| Leader of the pack
|
| Ain’t neva been no followa
|
| Ain’t neva been no busta
|
| Dumpin on mothafuckas
|
| Ain’t neva been no sucka spillin information to the undacova
|
| I only fuck wit ridas and realas thug niggas drug dealas
|
| All about the skrilla cemetary fillas
|
| It’s Hunta Killa (That's reala)
|
| Chorus |