roscoe street stalking - killtak lyrics
[intro]
k!lltakular
[verse 1]
12 inch gutter in your ribcage, i ain’t playing
and i catch ’em down bad, in the dirt that’s where he f*ckin’ stayin’
yeah, maybe i might just let you out that motherf*ckin’ cage b*tch
but i guarantee you never leave this f*cking bas*m*nt
i’m shooting valkyrie on south street, i’m a f*cking addict
and this 45. push your cap off like i hit the rim back
never leave da crib without ar, dat b*tch sit on my lap
on the e*way, see a pig ‘n i’ma motherf*cking dump the mag
got a sig, cigs, lighter and two blades inside my f*cking jacket
me and luis riding ’round chicago wreaking f*cking havoc
eastside soulja ’til i die, that sh*t’ll never happen
45. tucked real tight, don’t gotta fight, just f*ckin’ pistol slap ’em
drinking hennesy and popping hydros got me f*cking wasted
12 gauge hit his mouth, got no response, i left him f*cking hanging
p*ssy boy got animosity towards me, got sum’ if he say some sh*t
posted on your f*cking block smoking your corpse for recreation
[chorus]
stalking ’round roscoe street posted up smoking lye
peel dat cap back with this big ass skinning knife
you so hard with that gun but that sh*t won’t save your life
internet p*ssy boy ass f*ggot, you ain’t ride
on the corner smoking lucky strikes, be lucky if i die
can’t take these weapons off me baby, had to bring that sh*t inside
ar*15 on me b*tch, 5.56 inside yo’ spine
plus i’m super grimy b*tch, i’m smoking ciggies all the time
going postal with this sig, pray you not inside my sights
catch you ducking under whips, 50 cent, i pop this 9
in my pontiac lurking, cruising down the f*cking strip at night
at the gas station puffing l’s ’bouta lose my mind
man the stress plus my nerves had to pop a kpin
bro was talking to me crazy, 45. to make his head spin
stomp your brain on the curb, i guess it was excessive
run up on me then i dump you down, please use your f*cking senses
[verse 2]
[?]
[chorus]
stalking ’round roscoe street posted up smoking lye
peel dat cap back with this big ass skinning knife
you so hard with that gun but that sh*t won’t save your life
internet p*ssy boy ass f*ggot, you ain’t ride
on the corner smoking lucky strikes, be lucky if i die
can’t take these weapons off me baby, had to bring that sh*t inside
ar*15 on me b*tch, 5.56 inside yo’ spine
plus i’m super grimy b*tch, i’m smoking ciggies all the time
going postal with this sig, pray you not inside my sights
catch you ducking under whips, 50 cent, i pop this 9
in my pontiac lurking, cruising down the f*cking strip at night
at the gas station puffing l’s ’bouta lose my mind
man the stress plus my nerves had to pop a kpin
bro was talking to me crazy, 45. to make his head spin
stomp your brain on the curb, i guess it was excessive
run up on me then i dump you down, please use your f*cking senses
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