Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Carnage , by - ChaundonRelease date: 11.02.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Carnage |
| Listen, I’ll body anybody |
| Leave anybody that I body needin' antibodies cause I’m not just anybody |
| I’m somebody to be dissed at all |
| Laughing at you lames and I’m dancing on your grave like Baryshinikov |
| Whatever ish you talk I brush it off |
| Fuck 'em all |
| You won’t win you got no spin like knuckle balls |
| You tryin' to treat me like your wallet, you get written off |
| You only reachin' for me for some money, or a business card |
| I sic my dogs on you, let 'em sink they teeth in |
| Until they walkin' from you full and gnawing on your pieces |
| Emilio the name synonymous with Jesus |
| Cause you worship every fuckin' piece of ground I put my feet in |
| Uh, yeah I know I got an ego I’m conceited |
| I’m the worst thing to happen to rap since Jay-Z quit |
| You ain’t got no kind of buzz you a secret |
| Your engineer don’t listen when he mixin' down that weak shit |
| So keep it to yourself, homie stop the sharing |
| You a fag, probably dressin' in drag like Donna Karan |
| And I brag cause the shit in the bag, it’s not apparent |
| Emilio, Chaundon and Mag, stop starin' |
| Yeah |
| Mag nigga |
| The throne ain’t available |
| Let it alone nigga, Mag home |
| Flowin' this religious I get psalms |
| But stigous, well known I stack digits |
| Get the gift to spit from my moms |
| Give me the strength to drop the… lyrical bombs of the son |
| The Bronx shit I’ve been on |
| Far from the norm I’m gone |
| No longer Mag, I’m King Kong |
| Tryin' to find the one lickin' my letters |
| Searchin' for the best, follow bread crumbs |
| Who better find some, there is none |
| No equivalent I’m too nice nigga |
| Son is ambivalent for dividends |
| Mag be on some different shit |
| From here |
| Put flare in a snare… there is a difference |
| What up Tif? |
| Hater’s won’t get off of the boy dick |
| So I give it to 'em sicker than HIV |
| Better to give I heard |
| So I serve 'em the curb |
| Y’all rap I’m just better with words |
| I’m back at it, the chick magnet |
| Layin' verses and broads down, Mr. Craftmatic |
| Don’t sleep, victory got’s more than it’s share |
| Staring down my opponents like they got no business here |
| Know somebody nicer go and get 'em |
| Your boy Peter Parker just did a whole mixtape of Venom |
| A summer blockbuster |
| The street needed heat cause the lukewarm MC’s LP’s were lackluster |
| How does it feel knowin' that your very best |
| Is considered less and will always be second guessed? |
| To one of my caliber |
| Metaphorically speaking this is target practice I shoot down challengers |
| Should’ve had your best on |
| Aim for the neck and above so it’s pointless for you to have a vest on |
| Go 'head gangsta, dive run for cover |
| I’m here with the Get Back Army, Little Brother |
| You’ll never get next cause we still got now |
| Forever connected like Al B. Sure’s eyebrow |
| Earn my respect son, I’m better than the rest |
| Nickname A-1, no one see me with a check |
| I used to hate rap until I started my career |
| Cause it was all the same I needed something else to hear |
| Y’all know the feelin' |
| Every rapper’s a hustler, do us all a favor, go back to drug dealing |
| Ha |
| Go back to drug dealing |