| Yeah
|
| Yeah
|
| Yeah
|
| Mean Mug Muzik
|
| It’s that new Chicago gangsta
|
| That old shit is out
|
| That new shit
|
| Say hello to the future, bitches
|
| (It's that What-the-fuck-you-lookin-at music)
|
| Welcome to Chicago where beef is realer
|
| Where in hairy situations we brush with death and comb the streets for scrilla
|
| It’s a cold world when niggas drawin heat can kill us
|
| The illest of breeds willin to make you bleed to feel us
|
| A animal on his corporate grizzly
|
| Spit divine as Corpus Christi
|
| Flow in hellfire till your corpse is cripsy
|
| Threats became visual
|
| Clappin at the face of Red Kerr-ass niggas like Jordan’s pre-game ritual
|
| Here’s a sicker dosage, keep your triggers focused
|
| Keep the nigga closest, from the inside out like trichinosis
|
| It’s Hood Deal Or No Deal, we face obstacles
|
| Tryina get paper, avoid the biggest cases possible
|
| Now I ain’t even tryin, I just ran off and scribbled
|
| I’m Hail Mary in a stand-off or handoff the middle
|
| Since my hands often brittle
|
| Every strap I put a extra body on it like a (?) it’s man off the dribble
|
| Then after my conquest expect the extortion
|
| That’s the best shit next to endorsements
|
| Wave Tecs for enforcements
|
| So fuck yo high tolerance for pain, you bitches better be born with extra
|
| endorphins
|
| I’m the son of the soil
|
| I rep the Chi
|
| From 11−9 to the crumbled buildings of Cabrini hard
|
| Acknowledge the demi god
|
| You a pussy, pubic bikini job
|
| Opposite end of the blade of Sweeny Todd
|
| Since my ejaculation fate was automatic profit and fortune
|
| Why the fuck (?) catastrophic proportions
|
| Leave bodies severed and the sockets contortioned
|
| This is barrel in your mouth, pad his pocket extortion
|
| Name your favorite spitters
|
| I orchestrate assassination
|
| Unmask your Jason’s 16-bar fascination
|
| I’m Fantastic Four with the flow
|
| Rock Fire shit Unseen by any Stretch of your imagination
|
| If you niggas ain’t bitchin over statue placement
|
| Then it’s southern over-saturation or Hova’s maturation
|
| My saliva and venom from a cobra’s (?)
|
| Fuck your gratulations, I take scrilla over adulation
|
| This is sick cinema converted to canvas
|
| Workin a vaginal with 16 cervical cancers
|
| With no medicinal or surgical answers
|
| 50−40 foot vertical stances, leaps and bounds ahead of y’all
|
| Impervious bars, hit the ass on the curviest broads
|
| Well gangsta, you know the sturdiest odds
|
| Spit scurviest (?), bitch, my only opponent worthy is God
|
| Even then I’ll topsy-turvy them odds
|
| Get it gone or get it mashed in excessively
|
| I wear your fuckin skull as a fashion accessory
|
| Fag, eat a dick veiny, Dick Cheney
|
| Till it bust on you like a hunting accident — he’s kinda sick, ain’t he? |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Mean Mug Muzik , by - Vakill. Song from the album Armor of God Instrumentals, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп