Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Kill Too Hard, artist - Inspectah Deck.
Date of issue: 29.06.2009
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Kill Too Hard |
They told me, what happened, alright |
You’re still young, and things like that always happen |
When you’ll learn, then you’ll know not to make those mistakes |
Really? |
These dudes don’t want it with Deck, no, my set glow |
Hate it or you love it, but you gonna respect though |
You ain’t got to know my name, check the blood, sweat &tears |
For years, niggas know I bang |
I’m a made nigga, caking what you call a boss |
On my own two, never taking orders from ya’ll |
What I spit, get the corners involved, it’s wreck on the yard |
It’s House Gang, son, it’s more than hard |
The life that’ll glamour and glitz, best believe |
On the flip side, nigga, it’s them hammers and clips |
Wanna live in high fashion and rich, so we scramble the strip |
Camouflage, with they hand on the grip |
Ain’t nothing gon' stop kid from getting his due |
No, your feets not big enough to fit in his shoe |
I don’t rock what you rap, niggas, they be pole |
On 'the wire', just not HBO |
They under fire, edge around the way we know |
They know they time up, guess that’s why they hate me so |
But yo, they will never take me though, I had to go like |
Montana, licking, sniffing crazy blow |
Still I be Hard to Kill like Seagal |
Warrior built, big shield and long sword |
One Six Ooh’ing it, doing it, king size |
Salutations, that’s respecting the king eyes |
For those that follow my lead, attract to the light |
At the same time, marvel the speed |
I’m so dope, I can bottle it free |
The most influential, modern day murderous he |
Yo, deep in the bungalo, chopping the motherload |
Carving my own path, taking another road |
I need a son to soul, he brought the troops with him |
It sounds presidential, I got the truth serum |
Don’t want the booth near him, respect in the sabotage |
I’m on the patio, stretched in my camouflage |
And my grammar’s hard, the Wolverine skeleton |
I be the yellow man, snatching on the other brand |
But on the other hand, light up the darkness |
I’m stir fried, nigga, yeah, I’m heartless |
My apartment is a hole in the wall, nigga |
Pass me the rock, stop holding the ball |
I told you before, under worser conditions |
Chessboxing, nigga, mic’s a dead body position |
Aiyo, it’s time to make cash dinero |
I’m going to the Summer Jam concert to bash your hero |
Lie up in your bedroom, smash your bureu |
We looking for the money, man, pass the Euro |
Apartment to pesos, pass the yen |
And, we don’t want to have to ask again |
Cuz we ain’t gon' be laughing then |
These three men, take on your whole staff and win |
Look, labels stay messing with a cat’s future |
And that weighs on me heavy like Rasputia |
But I still keep spitting like a shortshop |
I’mma be sitting at the table when the cork pop |
You gon' be sitting at the table with a porkchop |
Lacking on the beat like a short cop |
It’s your boy Ace, BK’s own |
All you ringtone rap dudes, please stay home, come on |