Futuristic, Gawne, Mac Lethal, Crypt (Rap) - Death to Mumble Rap lyrics

This a warnin' shot to every motherfuckin'
Little one-hit-wonder, rap mumble brother
Crypt and I finna get paid a bundle
So we teamed up top five dead or alive
We're bringin' the rain and thunder
Goin' insane, I'll be choppin'
Like a helicopter blade
Man, the wolf's begun to hunt the jungle
Stomach rumbles, lookin' for somethin'
Damn where the fuck's Lil Pump
At? I'm kinda hungry
These kitties better never come to my city
Come to the Windy
You gon' get nothin' but animosity
Midwest monopolies, monstrosities
Rap god, I'ma leave the beat in poverty!
Hostility, drop a bomb on the enemy
Artillery, blowin' up your auxiliary
Hit 'em with the
Intercontinental capabilities
Leavin' no stability in the Middle East


Benghazi, Hillary, yeah
Will I be a kamikaze and kill a beat?
Nobody really wanted this smoke, so I'm
Hittin' 'em with the Juul pod, nicotine
Smokin' 'em like a chicken
In the rotisserie
Finger on the frickin' detonator
Incinerating and straight eviscerators
I consider eliminating
Every hater in the visible
Vicinity like Arnold Schwarzenegger
Terminator, fuckin' mumble rap exterminator
Then again I spit it, wicked
Demented and venomous
'Cause I'm sick of the bitter freakin'
Diggin' and reapin' the benefit's
When I'm rappin' it like a missile
Disintegrated in remnants
I'm beginnin' to be the reaper
So I load the MAC, attack!
Doo doo! Everybody dies when I nuke you
Screws loose, losin' my mind
I'm goin' cuckoo
Who knew I would be the rap Babe Ruth?
Jésus in suede shoes
I hit 'em and straight shoot
The skeletons walk through
The elements, wordsmith, the Letterman
Way too competitive, rap with
The best of 'em, the veterans
And I've just entered the
Seventh level of hell, the devil
Mama, made it out the ghetto
So how the fuck could I not be the
Illest when I feel like a villain
Killin' anybody at will? I'm villainous
Still a gorilla i'm pillagin' villages and
Buildings, pavilions, king Kong
I'm pro'bly makin' a song for Kim Jong
So ching-chong
Kiddies sing-along as I'm rippin'
About the quickest
Yeah, when I'm pickin' apart the rap and
I put the pen the pad
And Peter Piper pickin' a
Pickled pepper, Peter, i picked it next
I figure that I'm doin' this straight
Just shittin' tracks at mumble rap
Uh, Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang (Brrt)
Shooting range, too much rage, who to slay?
Grippin', I weaponize all the rhymes
They demise to the mumble gods when we
Hit 'em like it's MMA
Gucci-Gucci-Gucci-Gucci-Gucci gang
Murder everybody like a shooting rampage
Yeah, kill 'em all, Fentanyl, blow 'em up
Molotov
Mazel tov, death to mumble, I rule the game

Sheesh! Yo

Yo, I'm not a hater
But I'll call a nigga out on his shit
I see a lot of people makin'
Money off of the kids they poppin' pills
Tryna hide they real feels see somebody OD
Then be surprised when it happens to them
I'm counter-culture, y'all some vultures
Fuck that!
Prayin' on they downfalls and bump that!
Use this music, dudes is foolish
Ignorant niggas flashin' they cash
Blowin' money they don't have
Flow infinite, I let 'em all rent it
And I laugh futuristic the illest with the
Pen and the pad
Since a young lad, been out as the gun blast
I was writin' raps while you
Was still watchin' Rugrats
Ante, I'ma up that (Uh)
Put your money where your mouth
Is, you don't want smoke
Your lung's black
Took a year off to sing on a bunch of songs
I was tired of rap
But now I'm joinin' with a comeback
(Sheesh)
I'm tired of verses without a purpose (yeah)
I'm tired of guns in the videos (Uh, huh)
I'm sick of fakin' it until you make it
That shit don't make sense
When you really broke
I'm sick of that mumblin' BS
That music that regress
I just wanna see less
I'm tired of seein' the homies on shirts
With the RIP letters right off
Of the heat press! (Damn)
Get your mind right when the time right
I know that they'll reflect
You don't gotta listen to my music
It's cool
But you do gotta show the young man respect
Or my hand up on yo' neck
'til I stretch the cords
Mumble rap: zero, us: four, check the score
(Woo) there's somebody to come at me
I'm the best with wars i move in silence
Comin' up like Tesla doors! Ugh

Yeah! Huh!

I don't really know what to do
Be comin' and spit fast
Flow so immaculate, give me a pat on the back
(Huh?) like I'm Brady and Belichick, I
Got these haters in check, i leave a mess if
(Huh?)
They thinkin' of steppin' to the best
Then give 'em whiplash
Whether if you noddin' up and down
From the beat of the track (What?)
Or givin' 'em uppercuts 'til their feet
Is up in their ass (Huh?)
I'ma kill a mumblin' motherfucker before
He kill somebody else (Huh? Huh? Huh? Huh?)
With the message that he's tryna
Make come to past (Huh? Huh? Huh? Hoo)
Hello, motherfucker, you heard me, right?
Guess it's hard to listen when your
Head is filled with purpose, right?
Get murked tonight
'cause bitches like you deserve to die
Get hurt inside with rhymes
And it's absurd that I
Have to come back and reiterate this shit
I'ma charge you a fee for
Extendin' my hit list
Play stupid games, win stupid prizes
They'll have you forever lookin' at
The back of your eyelids (yeah)
And yeah, we just got back from a funeral
(Uh) luke, Mac, Crypt and Futuristic
It was beautiful (yeah)
We had to say goodbye to some
Of the ignorants in the game
But that's what happens when they ruin
The image that we portray (, hoo)
We don't play around
The audience should know it now ()
Now I'm not sayin' we played
A part in the death (Ha)
But to be honest
If ever the blame goes around
We take responsibility 'fore we dig 'em
Up and kill 'em again! (Oh- woo)

Oh, y'all sell tickets like Marvel movies?
Well, I still hate it like Scorsese
Y'all are just food from McDonald's
And I am a gourmet filet that's more tasty
I'm more crazy than a short lady
Tryna give birth to eighty-four babies
In the very back of a Porsche Cayman
I bury rappers, then pour pavement
Just because you're rappin' fast
Doesn't mean that you're sayin' something
Y'all mo'fuckers rap so damn slow
That, somehow
You're literally sayin' nothin'
Just because you can rap fast
Doesn't mean that you can rap good
Well, just because you can rap at all
Doesn't mean that your
Motherfuckin' ass should
Should'a, could'a
Would'a hit a hood up with a psycho
Analytical, metaphysical mastermind
I'm makin' a fuckin' mockery
Of anybody makin' an attempt at taking
The fuckin' top from me
I brutalize the beat and get the broccoli
Brru-brru! Build a Tommy gun and
Then the bodies come
Du-du-du-du-du-du! Here the choppers come
Everybody gotta win, you gotta get aboard
There's blood up in the ocean water
And it's washin' to the shore, ayy
I'm rotten to the core, catch a body
Maybe four i'm gonna drop you to the floor
Like this is Gatti versus Ward
I got a shotty and a sword, in fact
I'm already at war
You know I got a perfect score
But I'ma stomp on you some more
You'll be dead, body in the morgue
Talkin' to the Lord
You ain't got an audience no more
All of 'em are bored
You don't party anymore
Nobody watches when you perform
Now you gotta go and get a
Job at the Gucci store
Gucci gang, Gucci gang, Gucci gang
Song is two years old, gee whiz
Who would think?
Pull your motherfuckin' pants up
Your coochie stank
Fuck the dumbass tats on your stupid face
I'd rather listen to Wu Tang
I'd rather listen to Luke and Crypt
I'd rather listen to Futuristic
And you'd rather listen to this
I'm about to really go insane if the game
Gives even a half a lil' bit of fame
To another motherfucker that got
"Lil" in his name
Fuck Gucci, you should join the literacy gang
Kids used to want to be astronauts in space
Now kids wanna put tats up on they face
All we tryna be is the best MCs
This the death of mumble rap, rest in peace