Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Killuminati, artist - Joey Bada$$. Album song 1999, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 11.06.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: EMPIRE, Pro Era
Song language: English
Killuminati |
| I’m a beast with these flows |
| Two birds one stone, you get geese when trees roll |
| They say I’m evil 'cause I trained my eagle to see gold |
| See, no seagulls couldn’t see these goals |
| Please, it’s the return of the beast coast |
| No cash, flash put the cheese still make teeth show |
| The cold needle, is how you move on a strip, you tryna be Vito?, |
| well there’s rules to this shit |
| Don’t get clapped, y’all ain’t real spitters, y’all lips chapped |
| Better watch the Mr. Nicewatch, don’t risk/wrist that |
| I got a 6 pack of bear/bare skill that I spill like that |
| And everybody know (THAT SHIT CRAY!) |
| Ya’ll niggas soft-spoken, down below token |
| The type to drop the soap when you soakin' in front of most men |
| It makes sense you want beef with this frozen |
| It nuts for new school, in the tool, ya' kid hold him |
| Better shoot yourself Plaxico, because I’m next to go |
| The Progressive flows from New York to New Mexico |
| A lyrical Spanish, with a dance that’s demandin' |
| Step into my box and that’s exactly what’chu standin' |
| Ain’t no half steppin' 'round me |
| And you gotta drown a fish before you clown me |
| That young cop killer, I’m dat ill, so doc' will ya |
| Give me two shots for 2Pac killer |
| Soul searchin' 'till my flows are perfect |
| I ain’t tryna be a slave from overworkin' |
| Sorry BADA$$, you lucky that I peeped the second |
| Tell them niggas keep it steppin' with they beat selection |
| Check the melody, it’s so heavenly |
| That shit’ll get your hips to move no 70's |
| All the Opium, can I bust soliloquies |
| Got that shit mix and mastered both remedies |
| Grab a spoonful, stirrin' up a pot |
| And you know we gotta serve it while it’s hot |
| I’m flowin' like a volcano, drippin' verses while drippin' verses off the top |
| Dirty cops still swervin' on the block |
| Lookin' for black kids, that spittin' up acid |
| It’s in my jeans/genes, don’t worry where my pants is |
| Get with the script it’s that ignorant shit |
| And they bound to get sick off of this quick |
| But I sealin' my lips, it’s a shift |
| I know you feel it man |
| We blowin' up like a ceiling fan |
| Droppin' off jewels like Killa Cam’s man |
| When it comes to kickin' verses I’m Mr. Van Damme |
| Crushin' strawberries it’s a jam |
| So throw both hands if you can |
| Ironic how I’m killin' this shit |
| Until they bury me, my volume is going in depth with longevity |