| I pump death to the death, let the blind lead the dumb
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| I’m a mess when I’m stressed, use a mic like a gun
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| Shoot a verse through your vest verb shatter your chest
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| Every word I project manifests in the flesh
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| I’m destined to rep on deck where the weapon is kept
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| Fully loaded Smith and Wesson how I earned my respect
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| Steele the vet, I’m still I’ll, still with TEC
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| Still will kill that real with the King Magnetic
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| Check it, it’s highly unlikely you cannot out-write me
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| You might need a bodyguard like Letterman I injure men
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| I’m vintage when I blast bayonets, jacket made of ninja skin
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| So interesting I reenact the son of Sam murders
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| Don’t kid a Kinison no sin is innocent
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| I dress British, think Yiddish, my verse makes you all skiddish
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| Like De La’s first iddish
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| It’s Esoteric, fuck you cop outs, we knock cops out
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| You should watch out
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| Cause we watch and ain’t scared of the cops
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| And when I die my lawyer in Heaven is Johnny Cochran
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| So I spread my wings let freedom ring
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| Instead of shine I used to stay on the stoop and move this loot with my Jedi
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| mind
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| Dred will find his essence, along with a weapon
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| Organize, rhyme my lines, or I deal with my
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| no second guessing, triple my stakes
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| Violate, fist to the face, inspire my apes
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| I recite grace, flashlight under my face
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| To some it’s the past life come jumped in my place
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| Asunder my taste punish the mistakes come from my hate
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| Erase the look of wonder from her face, hunger awaits
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| Wear gloves, there will be blood
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| Not to get warmer hence two strips of crud for my lip corners
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| Supreme killing machine, I’m a busybody
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| A little hard work never killed anybody
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| My mind a hologram cousin I’ve been nice since '86
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| Right around the time they started moving that grey shit
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| I ain’t overcomplicated, give me the basics
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| Glock 45 Lord give you a facelift
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| I’m drunk all the time, every day May 5
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| Rhyming ain’t for you God, stay on your dayshift
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| Negative motherfucker, I hate shit
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| Y’all are on that gay shit so you could make hits
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| Yo Mag, what up cousin?
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| What up baby
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| Yeah. |
| Let’s go
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| Fuck if you did and he suffered his tyranny
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| Harder than finding MCs that fuck with me lyrically
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| Every big touching me spiritually, knuckle invariably
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| Punk your security, sand dunes, nothing is near to me
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| and a mask like door math teacher
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| Not a killer but King Mag chalk out features
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| Have the coroner exploring you like Dora does? |
| caught a buzz
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| War with us you can’t afford, get courted by more of us |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Watch Out, artist - King Magnetic. Album song Everything's A Gamble 3, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп