artis: a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

lirik lagu strangeulation ii – tech n9ne


[verse 1 – godemis:]
prayin’ that 12-12 for h-ll
felon to sell and slept on a bed of nails like nothing i’ve ever felt
ghost in a sh-ll, was molded with other demons as
if i needed some help or a host to preserve the heathen
got it, my brain is rotted
i swear to god that i’m not it
i’m set to go to the gallow as soon as the rope is knotted
i ain’t high as the fire and i have unused adrenaline
came in the cypher clean, still smelling like putrid cinnamon
then i’m in, enemy of the state, i’m straight at an angle
stop risking and quit your b-tchin’, it ain’t like i’m raping an angel
said i was magnifique, ya’ll f-ckin’ with it, kapeesh

[verse 2 – stevie stone:]
stevie stone i’m on it i’m so clever
n-body comparing ’em better
i put sh-t together
america’s most elaborated rap pick yo head up
small talkin’ to get you wet up
yeah, i’m will to kill all you n-gg-s
the feelin’, adrenaline that’ll spillin’ a milli yeah i mill’ all you n-gg-s
ain’t even reach out they [?] rather my sillin’ on n-gg-s
and backin’ a back on back can’t billy you n-gg-s
get busy on n-gg-s
this ain’t no [?] some leekage
stonie in the building the b-tches pull out their cleavage
the snake and the bat you see them prominent features
the spieces
strangeland we rain on your region
meatwagon i come i be taggin’ ’em
baggin’ ’em bring ’em cl-sters of three
got three magnums gaggin’ em out
you p-ss-es is still talkin’ i’m draggin’ ’em out
i’m tappin’ ’em out

[verse 3 – murs:]
aww sh-t, they f-cked around and signed a backpacker
smart, rich, handsome, plus he’s not a bad rapper
i’m just a little local talent that f-cked around and made it big
underground bully, pickin’ on all these famous kids
and the danger is, now i’m doin’ strange a biz?
about to make the world forget about what a major is
independent powerhouse, running all these cowards out
my enemies are all forgotten, wishin’ i would shout em out
and i don’t want to hear a rapper harmonize unless
he thuggish, ruggish, lazy, krayzie, bizzy, wish or flesh
but maybe i’m just hatin’ cuz my black -ss could never sing
f-ck that autotune i hope the futures filled with better things
and you a f-cking liar if you say you found a better team
impossible! like trying to fit my d-ck inside my wedding ring
and all the bread it brings will be distributed and properly
i represent for hip hop not some f-cking aristocracy

[verse 4 – brotha lynch hung:]
i’m the martin scorsese of rap, rap predator
better than severin’ the reverend with a jackknife
kevin and eleven of ’em revvin’ up the engines we bubblin’ up like 7-up
then when we shoot that sh-t we eat that sh-t for din–din-ner
i don’t need no f-ckin’ “ok”, are you serious, i’m okay
i’mma make you bleed like it’s your period, period
i eat period p-ssy so eating you ain’t serious
what you need for me to flip that sh-t and rip that sh-t
like a skitzo stick that sh-t, that sh-t like a automatic pistol grip
no, i created this fast rap, i’m past that
i put a gat in that -sscrack and blast that
i’m lightyears ahead of ’em, might use the head of ’em
i lose, then you can keep the breadcrumb
my n-gg- i’m a carnivore, ready for any kind of war, any kind of score