Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Homicide, artist - Logic. Album song Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 09.05.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: DEF JAM, Universal Music
Song language: English
Homicide |
Son, you know why you the greatest alive? |
Why, Dad? |
Because you came out of my balls, nigga |
Hahahahahaha |
(Roof!) |
Fuck rap |
Bustin' like an addict with a semi-automatic |
Who done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck back |
Hold up, catch a vibe, ain't no way in hell we leavin' nobody alive |
Leave a suicide note, fuck that |
Bobby feelin' villainous, he killin' this |
I'm comin' for your man and his lady and even the baby |
I'm feelin' like I'm, chika-chika-chika, Slim Shady with rabies |
I'm foamin' at the mouth, ain't nobody takin' me out |
Every single rapper in the industry, yeah, they know what I'm about |
And I dare you to test me |
'Cause not a single one of you motherfuckers impress me |
And maybe that's a little bit of an exaggeration |
But I'm full of innovation |
And I'm tired of all of this high school "He's cool, he's not" rap shit |
Can a single one of you motherfuckers even rap? |
Shit |
No, this ain't a diss to the game, this a gas to the flame |
Nowadays, everybody sound the same, shit's lame |
Like a moth to the flame, I'ma reel 'em in and kill 'em |
Know you feelin' lyricism when I'm spillin' it, I'm feelin' myself |
Yeah, yeah, Bobby Boy, he be feelin' himself |
Mass murder like this can't be good for my health |
When I rap like this, do I sound like shit? |
Well, it don't really matter, 'cause I'm killin' this shit |
Yeah, I'm killin' this shit |
Oh yeah, oh yeah, I'm killin' this shit |
Bobby, how many times you been killin' this shit? |
Find another rhyme, goddamn, nigga, shit |
Fuck rap |
Bustin' like an addict with a semi-automatic |
Who done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck back |
Hold up, catch a vibe, ain't no way in hell we leavin' nobody alive |
Leave a suicide note, fuck that |
Bobby feelin' villainous, he killin' this |
I'm comin' for your man and his lady and even the baby |
I'm feelin' like I'm, chika-chika-chika-chika |
Chika-chika-chika-chika-chika, Slim Shady |
There's nowhere to hide, we call this shit genocide |
Hit 'em with that (Do-do-do) and they die |
We gon' leave 'em crucified, we call this shit genocide |
I got bitches, I got hoes, I got rare designer clothes |
No, we ain't fuckin' with that |
Yeah, there's a time and a place |
But if you ain't comin' with the illest of raps |
Callin' yourself the greatest alive |
Then you don't deserve to do that |
No, no, oh no, no, please do not do that |
You gon' get smacked |
You gon' make Bobby attack |
You gon' make Bobby Boy snap |
You gon' make Bobby Boy snap (Bobby Boy!) |
Fuck rap |
Bustin' like an addict with a semi-automatic |
Who done had it, and he ready for anybody to buck back |
Hold up, catch a vibe, ain't no way in hell we leavin' nobody alive |
Leave a suicide note, fuck that |
Bobby feelin' villainous, he killin' this |
I'm comin' for your man and his lady and even the baby |
I'm feelin' like I'm chika-chika-chika-chika |
Chika-chika-chika-chika-chika, Slim Shady |
Jigga-jigga-jigga-jigga-jigga like JAY-Z |
Jig is up, you fuckers who didn't write anything |
Are getting washed, liga-liga-liga, like bathing |
Young Hova, I know hitters like Yankees |
Gun toters that pull triggers like crazy |
Unloadin', leave you shot up in your Rover |
Your body goes limp and slumps over |
Like A-Rod in a month lull, but he just homered |
Hol' up, I said "rover" because now your Rover is red |
Like Red Rover, so you know what I meant |
But I roll over my opponents instead |
Makin' dog sounds 'cause I gotta keep breakin' these bars down |
I'll go slow for the speds |
But when I go (Roof!) like the Dobermann said |
I still think the (Roof!) would go over your head (Ha-ha) |
Beast mode, motherfuckers 'bout to get hit |
With so many foul lines, you'll think I'm a free throw |
Figured it was about time for people to eat crow |
You about to get out-rhymed, how could I be dethroned? |
I stay on my toes like the repo, a behemoth in sheep's clothes |
From the East Coast to the West, I'm the ethos and I'm the G.O.A.T |
Who the best, I don't gotta say a fuckin' thing, though |
'Cause MCs know |
But you don't wanna hear me spit the facts |
Your shit is ass like a tailbone |
Or you're trapped in your cell phone |
Or my chicken scratch, or my self-loathe |
I don't want to fuckin' listen to you spit your raps someone else wrote |
Used to get beat up by the big kids |
Used to let the big kids steal my big wheel |
And I wouldn't do shit but just sit still |
Now money's not a big deal |
I'm rich, I wipe my ass with six mill' |
Big bills like a platypus |
A caterpillar's comin' to get the cannabis |
I'm lookin' for the smoke but you motherfuckers are scatterin' |
Batterin' everything and I've had it with the inadequate |
Man, I can see my dick is standin' stiff as a mannequin |
And I'm bringin' the bandana back, and the fuckin' headband again |
A handkerchief and I'm thinkin' of bringin' the fuckin' fingerless gloves back |
And not giving a singular fuck, like fuck rap |
I sound like a fuckin' millionaire |
With a Derringer with a hair trigger |
'Bout to bear hug a fuckin' terrier, the Ric Flair dripper |
Y'all couldn't hold a candle at a prayer vigil |
When I vent, they compare me to a fuckin' air duct |
I'm about to bare-knuckle it, nah, fuck it |
I'm gonna go upside their head with a Nantucket |
Abraca-fuckin'-dabra |
The track is the blood, I'm attracted, I'm attackin' it |
What? |
Dracula, fuck that shit |
I'm up, back with a thud |
Man, stop |
Look what I'm plannin', plannin', I'm plannin' to |
Do all this while ya panickin' |
And you're lookin' and starin' at mannequins |
And I'm goin' to Fanagans |
Trying to get up a plan against |
All of the blana-kazana-ka-fam-bam-bannigans |
While of all the bana-kazanika Hanna in a cabana |
You're in a cab- |
I'm in a cabana and a Janet |
I'm in a cabana chantin' all this standup banter |
While you don't got the stamina, you're lackin' the stamina |
You're lackin' the stamina while you're divorcin' Harrison Ford |
And I'm in a Porsche on the floorboards |
While I'm world tourin' |
You usin' way too many napkins, papkins |
Lapkins and chapki- |
You using ChapStick and napkins while I'm bapkin' |
Flappin' around like a bapkin' |
Flamminababbitapannitajampkin |
Dammit, a can of pada- |