[Verse 1: GAWNE] I swore to the G.O.D, I was finna get mine 'Cause mama, you done made it out Chicago's west side Ho ho, mama, let's ride- we roll, Bonnie and Clyde, I ain't going out quiet Got time on my left wrist, God on my right, but I'm out of my right mind, so be quiet And don't ask what I'm rapping for- this shit is personal My momma gon' live in the Hollywood Hills 'fore she gets to the nursin' home 'Cause name five MCs in the game right now who could take me down I'll wait- Crooked, we might just have to give 'em the rhythm that they came for now When I hit 'em with the pro tank Profane flow, til' the propane flame goes out Until then, I'm the rap godzilla Miraculous, I'm coming to take the president down Cause I came for the most hateful, cave troll In the white house of an AWOL and his wife with an a-hole Women say, "No", but he won't stop grabbing the pussy by the handful The man knows that he can't lose at a few scandals when Vladimir Putin is handing 'em Wikileaks used to advantage the spirit in Hillary puttin' that nail through the casket And it's a freaking apparent this country is reaching a point Of combustion, but faith in humanity's practically vanishing Conservative values have died, they're inanimate And liberals are panickin'- turn into pussies, they packin' they bags up and moving to Canada Canada! You motherfuckers ain't really man enough How'd I give a fuck? I'm never runnin' for nothin' Even if Donald's got the nukes and he's coming for everybody In the opposition, I'ma beat it, open up a can of the whoopee I'm whooping the mag cause I'm not a man, I'm a legend, I wreck it My records are breakin' every single record known to man And the second the world ain't ready for the return of the mic murderin' menace I hurt 'em and burn 'em- I'm pennin' the word of the minute so call him a medic with anesthetic Before they turnin' to someone you never heard of Pathetic, at first I was headed for heaven But the devil said I'd be better never repentin' for my pen Again when the venom is venerable, I'm too fuckin' incredible Unbiteable flow, it is inedible My legible, my decibels and trebles are impeccable One flip of the rap and kickin' it back to the momentum I first had it when I was entering my zone Whoa, look at the show- Luke Gawne, Crooked I and Craig O You probably thought I was gonna slaughter every syllable But I'm rippin' em, the best when I'm making it spit it Bitch, I'm limitless (Yo!)
[Chorus: Craig Owens, KXNG Crooked] Walking on with thoughts of redemption Plotting through my head, voices said speak of division Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay Vision perfect, fantasy isn't Rotting 'till I'm dead- voices spread, nobody listen Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay (Uh, Crooks, go!)
[Verse 2: KXNG Crooked] Everybody worry about they guns in the second amendment End it, my nigga, I'ma tell you in advance You want America to ban every weapon invented Just put a gun in a real nigga hands 'Cause me holdin' steel wasn't built in the plans Elephant in a room, I'ma poacher (Shot!) Still live in a womb, I'ma smoke ya Veteran in a mood, I'ma choke ya Even if you're ill with your hands, you still getting killed- it don't matter When a shooter go bananas in Nevada shooting outta the window at the Mandalay bay, like he had a McCain He sprayin', the crowd shattered, and the data don't add up- more than 58 dead Conspiracy theorists sayin' they really ain't dead But tell that to the motherfucker laying on the ground With his brain matter splattered, head shattered on a platter From the automatic ratata-tata that'll make you change everything in your mind frame When the time came, Dylann Roof let his .9 aim Walk into the church, turn that shit into a fire range Squeezin' on the deacon til' his mind hangs, sideways Nine slain- cries, pain, eyes drain, lies, blame How do I explain hatred to a underage kid Who's parents got their lives claimed by a killer That the coppers got a whopper for at the Burger King After the murder scene, they don't give a fuck if we all die Doin' a copper like an Eazy-E walk-by Slaughterhouse logo pig gettin' hogtied Fall guy, 'cause all I'm seein' is you devils bein' greedy for dineros But you fuckin' with a pharaoh, I'm the builder of the pyramid monument, my eye's on top of it I'm all-eyes seein', like Horus All I ever needed was a chorus, the shit that get 'em hooked from Philly to Middlebrook These killers shook- you're lookin' at Crooked, you're lookin' at a book Crook is a thesaurus, godlike being This industry is full of shady -isms, they be in a favouritism, take a listen Lyric disciple, I wrote the lyrical bible Whoever said he did it, I'ma call it plagiarism They was into Atheism, Paganism, Satanism- wait a minute Pay the menace great attention- haters pissin', they be trippin' They be listin' crazy spittin', daily rhythms, eighty bit 'em Ate 'em like a plate of chicken Players stick 'em for the blatant haterism Say the mission ain't a mission if the lyricism isn't a main event when I'm paintin' pictures You fuckin' with a verbal gun clapper, I hunt rappers I gun smoke blunt rappers quicker than your blazin' swisha
[Chorus: Craig Owens] Walking on with thoughts of redemption Plotting through my head, voices said speak of division Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay Vision perfect, fantasy isn't Rotting 'till I'm dead- voices spread, nobody listen Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to payTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
