​billy woods - Dead Drummer Boyz lyrics

Spit like scotch blenders, Glen
Lower spending, look at all
The shots I sended, Beef ender
Come home, niggas pretended, that’s ok
The Nile ain’t a river in Egypt
Every move strategic
White check, checkmate, hit your gate
Drop the thirty-eight, pass the brake
Now we straight
Like heartache, tough luck mate
Young havoc where you at
Pull a sack out your hat
Twist that uptown magician
Dime bag technician
Fly rides with the booming system
See four in the ignition
Suicide missions with Israeli
Walk on water for the Christians
Daily news late edition
Spitamatic sleeper cell come in
Like artillery shell
Raw as hell MCs, we won’t ask, don’t tell
You ain’t parallel with the bell
Call me Dr phil
Old saw bones and craft ill poems
Through the first stone
Burn the whole bone, Backwoodz Studioz nigga
Roll your own and back from a payphone
And don’t even talk that bullshit neither
Come back like Jesus on
Easter with two heaters
Bloody Sunday, no more playing BK
Check the replay we harder than your PJs
Turn the tables like a DJ
Have you like Albert: "hey hey hey!"
How you like them apples
Nasty as chitlins and scrapple

Let loose these ticket holders
On the red carpet or the rose hotel
The gold blows smoke running
Give me that necklace stunning
‘cause I wanna eat before I sleep and I
Need funding for a campaign
A saccharine stain, no shame
Shackles for chains
Saw massacre came, ‘cause I felt like it and
That’s the stricture’s picture
From scripture loose leafs, cool teeth
Bedtime story mixture
Broke a light fixture, drank an elixer
Have hit standing in line
Saying thank you mister minister sinister
Sisyphus push rock as punishment
Take pharmaceuticals
Reduce fingernails to cuticles
I let loose an army to reenact a musical
We can all march and proclaim
Murder to be beautiful
And Jacob’s Ladder to reach the fruit
So I’m telling you
I’m selling you 999 ways to the country
Spines snapping days at the
Ministry of plenty
Prayer light glare off the
Refraction of your camera
You make me snore like Al Gore
But you can’t handle her
Meters break back inside their cages
‘cause I sold funk in
Four different stages, the pages flipped
The just tip then I lost focus
Collapse on your bread and butter like locust
You can have you mister opus
I grab the ropes and
Build the platform out of oak
There’s no straggling brights haggling
Carpet bagging on this road to
A pharaoh’s phalanx couldn’t give enough
Thanks to please Nero
We viral spread infections
Instead of blankets
Protection as the kid gets, out blood boiling
Spoiling soylent green
Take a seat and you’ll see what I mean