Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Killas, artist - Ice Cube.
Date of issue: 09.05.2011
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Orchard
Song language: English
Killas |
Ice Cube! |
Game! |
You fuckin' with some killas |
You fuckin' with the motherfuckin' realist niggas |
You fuckin' with some killas |
You fuckin' with the motherfuckin' realist niggas |
I wish a motherfucker would say something |
Fuck around and get your goddamn ass whooped |
Nigga I feel like startin' some shit |
And I might just snap the piss, out a pussy ass nigga like you, nigga fuck ya |
Take a 45 cross the head gun butt ya (yeah) |
Ya’ll pussy-ass niggas ain’t hard |
Stomp that ass out like a million man march |
Sawed off shotgun hand on the pump |
Finger on the trigga, I’m ready to dump |
Blow a motherfucker, bye bye |
Point blank range, yeah niggas gon' die |
That’s why I never leave the crib without packing my gat |
Strap on my vest, put on my hat |
Motherfuckers outta line gettin' laid down flat |
Imma show you how a real nigga act |
You fuckin' with some killas |
You fuckin' with the motherfuckin' realist niggas |
You fuckin' with some killas |
You fuckin' with the motherfuckin' realist niggas |
It’s 3, the hard way |
Black Lambo, no passengers |
Black Ski mask, chain saw massacre |
Cube pass me the AK-47 |
(Blacka) yellow tape the intersection |
Loaded clips, lock 'em in |
Got a black 45, call it Pac’s revenge |
I’m a motherfuckin' animal |
Lil Jon beat cannibal |
Every nigga in Atlanta Know |
I’m psycho insane about my cash |
They can re-open Alcatraz |
And sentence me the life without rehabilitation |
Fuck Governor Schwarzenegger, nigga it’s my statement |
Dear Mr. President Barack Obama, right after you catch Osama |
Tell Mr. Waso, please let Oprah know |
That I won’t ever stop sayin' bitch and ho |
You fuckin' with some killas |
You fuckin' with the motherfuckin' realist niggas |
You fuckin' with some killas |
You fuckin' with the motherfuckin' realist niggas |
We run A-Town, we run LA |
Now get down on your motherfuckin' belly |
Before this AK make you do a ballet |
It’s the nut cracker, I’m the linebacker |
Three motherfuckers, hard as concrete |
Y’all motherfuckers soft as Gandhi |
Pull that thing out, now you a zombie |
you know where I be |
West side rolling, all day, everyday |
Got your bitch open, you’re fucking with heavyweights |
Like my space |
And stay the fuck outta my face |
Ghostwriters I’m on ya' |
From Atlanta, Georgia to California |
This shit can’t go no longer |
And when I catch ya, I’m a-don ya |
You fuckin' with some killas |
You fuckin' with the motherfuckin' realist niggas |
You fuckin' with some killas |
You fuckin' with the motherfuckin' realist niggas |