Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Death Notes, artist - Crime Boss
Date of issue: 07.04.1997
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Death Notes |
It’s the psychic that’s on the creep |
Bringing heat to all the projects, sets, boundaries |
Now when you see these, here they’re coming over sea with no key |
Bringing death notes to all images in the rap industry (Death) |
We gladly present to you, the scientist |
There’s no time left, eject the tape, niggas evacuate the set |
Jet, I’m leaving notes laced with death on your doorsteps |
Make your last request, eternal rest your destination |
Premeditation murder, a result of aggravation |
These sticky situations got me in a zone, polish the chrome |
Prone to demolish these niggas like Sly Stallone |
If loving the game is wrong, I don’t wanna be correct |
Those who ride in my set get outlined like silhouettes |
So death’s a blackout, don’t ask about my riches |
I cast a spell on the snitches, my cliental are the strictest |
I’m predicted, niggas get twisted with my scientifics |
Witness this I increase my salary by six digits |
Wiping out all existence, get diminished instantly |
Tonight’s the night, and we mobbing through your city making history |
I’m mentally abusive, undisputed |
No need to interview me, my lyrics debut, they exclusive |
We believe in death notes, for those that approach |
Lay comatose, it’s gun smoke on every coast |
We believe in death notes, for those that approach |
Lay comatose, it’s gun smoke on every coast |
We believe in death notes, for those that approach |
Lay comatose, it’s gun smoke on every coast |
My mood swings like a noose, fuck ya juice |
Strictly gun play put down your dukes |
I produce evil and seduce |
Diabolical thoughts for onslaught |
Causing casualties, many ones afford inside your mental |
Visitation from hitmen with mack tens, stacking when we sin |
Bitch your block bodies drop, when we bend the corner |
So killers are now up on ya |
We plot paper with homies from Chi-Town to the hills of California |
The aroma of gunsmoke, choke niggas |
Worldwide, suicide you will confront, Suave House until the day I die |
I get cocked like warlocks, the sinister doctor Bombay |
Casting spells with this fully loaded AK |
Bodies lay in ruin, dirty like urine in a drug test |
Don’t stress, I’m just a lyrical murder vest |
I project and see caskets for the words that I graph |
Gats hold my signature nigga, here’s my autograph |
(Death) This is your last notice, (Notes) ha ha ha ha ha |
(Death) So tell me are you afraid, (Notes) |
How does it feel looking down (Death) the eyes of death (Notes) |
Ha ha ha ha (Death) ha ha ha ha ha (Notes) ah ha ha ha ha |
Time to get the G’s, must get the dough and |
Increase before I release the flows and expose it straight smoking |
Shit like sticks, increasing grips, we taking trips to hit the streets |
So niggas flip and dip to the scientist’s arranged lyrics, like chemists |
(No gimmicks) I’m in to diminish ya like the wizard, who is it |
It’s ol' Ste (and the L-O-K-E-Y) you can’t see we |
It’s a lyrical drive-by, the scientist on the creep |
I tweak now watch me take this level to the highest peak |
To each his own, my songs is full of killers and cap-peelers |
The mats and gats zippers you can ask the Sinister |
About me, I slip though the night like hockey skis |
To see Professor Lo-Key, cause mister clocking G’s |
For fulfilling his prophecies, it’s the narrator |
And it’s the black Noreaga slash international playa |
(Death) Ha ha ha ha, now there you have it (Notes) |
(Death) The scientist on a creep to kill (Notes) |
(Death) This shit don’t get no realer than this (Notes) |
So (Death) sinist-sinister, my nigga (Notes) the L-O-K-E-Y |
(DIE!) |