| Yeah
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| Day By Day
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| Uncle Howie
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| Brooklyn Ac
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| The holy trinity nigga
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| Check this
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| See Block McCloud sitting on a stoop in Brooklyn
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| Don’t step you might slip like a fiddler on a roof
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| Fans respect Block cause what I’m spitting is the truth
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| Nasty nigga, love a groupie licking on her cooch
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| Cause I don’t give a fuck, down a bottle of my jaw stuff
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| With only a night, looking for more sluts to force fuck
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| Ironic how the liquor make me vomit
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| Like denying me the things that I love will make me want it even more
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| Like a hard to find Brooklyn Ac track
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| To a fan that keep looking cause I’m cooking that crack
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| It’s like karma, what goes around comes around
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| What goes up must come down, coming out the fucking underground
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| We surfacing from the church of sin
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| Uncle Howie work the single, Day By Day made the CDs you’re purchasing
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| Niggas with bad karma, shed 'em like a serpent’s skin
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| Murdering foes dead like blood curdling
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| Karma’s a bitch
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| Fuck anybody who snitch
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| Have the police wondering whose body is this
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| See the cut that make sure the payback’s enormous
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| Have us begging for mercy from a god that scorns us
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| Karma’s a bitch
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| Fuck anybody who snitch
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| Have the police wondering whose body is this
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| See the cut that make sure the payback’s enormous
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| Have us begging for mercy from a god that ignores us
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| I’ll make the hallow tip explode in your brain homie
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| The sound of it will leave you cold and defamed wodie
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| When hypothermia sets in, the reaper’s calling
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| Rising off the crucifix like it’s Easter morning
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| Everything turn black when my heat is talking
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| And everybody wear black when they see your coffin
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| Your apocalypse perhaps is me achieving glory
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| Sitting on a jewel throne whores kneel before me
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| I’m a legend on these streets my people adore me
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| Storm the streets with loyalty and go to war for me
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| Run up in your crib an pop a sawed off on me
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| And jump right in front of a bullet if it’s coming towards me
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| I’m a cross between the most morbid disease and a swarm of bees
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| Leaving you horrifically tortured and deceased
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| While you feast on goats and dance for Satan
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| You wake up in another life a brain cancer patient
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| Wild in a wheelchair like Lieutenant Dan
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| Feds follow me around in a blue tinted van
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| That’s first unit, second unit, their van’s tan
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| Black helicopters on top with a scan
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| Manson, even while in prison
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| Warned you about me, but you didn’t listen
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| Switch picture, I run the world
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| Karma’s a bitch and my name is Earl
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| Why would I, look what you done to me
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| I’ma kill you, you better run from me
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| It’s a horror flick don’t run in woods dummy
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| You’s a punk but you hide it real good money
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| Thrown in a trunk, you riding in the hood money
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| Lay down and die, I really think you should money
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| Come out your pockets, I’m Roy Demeo
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| Come out your sockets, your arms and your legs go
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| Kickbox bitch, no love this way
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| Cut your head off, save it for a trophy
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| You mother, make her more upset
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| Dig casket up, dump the body on her doorstep
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| Shoot your carcass, bonus little death threat
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| That’s nothing, you haven’t seen our best yet
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| Cremate can’t find where the hash is
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| Get the bamboo, roll up your ashes
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| Light it up, this high is the fastest
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| We get about a brick from you, you gonna last us
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| Everyone know I’m quick to bust a gat
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| Disrespect my flow, I’ll murder you for that
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| Hide body, throw a party, picnic where you at
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| Side bar lawyers talk, beat the murder rap
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| Seeking for the max, evidence is wax
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| No one is safe so suckas watch your back |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Karma, artist - Ill Bill. Album song American Hunger, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп