Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Killa From The Villa , by - Buddha Monk. Song from the album The Prophecy, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 05.07.1998
Record label: Edel
Song language: English
Killa From The Villa |
| Hahahaahahahahahahahahaha |
| Once again it’s the God Buddha Monk |
| Representin the Zu |
| 1−1-2, 4−4-1 Franklin Av |
| Peace to all my niggas |
| The Ripper, knowwhatI’msayin? |
| We gon' drop this track for my nigga, Y-Kim |
| And Q-Base. |
| And it’s deadly, deadly |
| Ah, it’s the killa straight from the villa |
| Ah, it’s the killa straight from the villa |
| Ah, it’s the killa straight from the villa |
| Thriller, pealer, mind cell dweller |
| There’s no need to get frantic |
| The Zu attacks minds and shit gets real hectic |
| Makin the kill like 7 masters |
| Tearin up the skills with total disaster |
| I’m after punk-ass niggas with laughter |
| Puttin stains in their raps, here, now and after |
| You want to test the style of the Shaolin foe? |
| The cut comes from far, it is eyes, noses and souls |
| That’s not enough time to lick nuff shots |
| The tech, the callico and one in the block |
| The 3 is for the kill, that kills and wrecks skills |
| It doesn’t really matter how you feel, I want you ill |
| If you dare peepin skills, pullin vains, holes in shins |
| Only thing that’s left is eyes, noses and chins |
| Who, tell me? |
| Who, tell me? |
| Who, tell me? |
| Can be known within… |
| I see it in your eyes and you’re scared to fuckin death |
| You fuck around boy, I cut your fuckin neck |
| Your styles is wack like that of, um, a hot mode |
| Man over sightly with spiritual powders |
| I’m deadly to the grain with my Brooklyn Zu slang |
| A killa that leaves no trace or blood stains |
| You’re fucked up, now it’s time to go dirt for dirt |
| You want the Zu name, for that you must work |
| You should’ve been taught 7 scores and 5 mics ago |
| I take life like my man Fidel Castro |
| There’s war, things ain’t just peace no more |
| I come thru like a Texas chainsaw |
| F.A. is where I rock with twin Glocks |
| Makin shit hot, rockin mad peoples knots |
| You’re hit, then you bleed, then you say you’re shit |
| You wish I disappeared by same this I’ll fix |
| Behold, I’m the foe that stands in the chamber |
| I’m Mr. RipYou when releasin the danger |
| Monk, receiver and teaches us all things that you need |
| Snatchin niggas by the neck and the mother feels the pain |
| Lyrical master with diaster, BLAOW! |
| Push yor caps back like burnin dutch masters |
| The sword of my click is crazy mad thick |
| Makin deep cuts cuz I’m sick of all this shit |
| That’s my style, son, I’m ready for the war |
| The hits from the God, prepare to hit the floor |
| Sparks of an element, movin in a 7 |
| Feelin the wrath of the Buddha, no wait for you to check it |
| Check this, here’s the killa thru this danger |
| Not enough, enters 36 chambers |
| Heads that feel, that thrills with a new skill |
| Burns the eyes, kills like electric eels |
| Kill has been told, what’s the Shaolin foes gold? |
| Cut razor sharp, inflict holes in souls |
| Master of disaster, Wu tapes are raptures |
| Cut many ducks, became a grand master |
| You want to oppose this deadly technique |
| Buddha’s knowledge is wicked, wicked like 10 priests *echos* |
| You don’t understand! |
| You don’t motherfuckin understand! |
| Don’t fuck with the Brooklyn Zu |
| If you don’t have the motherfuckin skills! |
| You bitch-ass mothafuckers can suck my dick! |
| Don’t fuck with the Brooklyn Zu! |
| Suck my motherfuckin dick! |