Paco General, Masicka - Mr. Death lyrics

Grung dem! Hah! Bomboclaat, Genahsyde
You hear me a say now man country I
You know Masicka how the thing go grung dem
Yo, Paco General bomboclaat, no bad like we

Dem no know 'bout badness yet
Dem just don't know
Only bad behind the mic inna the studio
(grung) me pull up a heckle and kotch
And tell him fit it up back
And him a ask me weh this fi go
Gun 'pon me belly everyweh a so me go
From you diss, you're dead
Yo man and everybody know
Real life murder, me thing a never show
Real life murder, me thing a never show

Me see man a talk tough, but me hold me calm
(boom) from the hammer lick the pin bredda
You know weh gwaan
We fire corn and man a fold up
The amount a soul weh gone
Wet dem up, dem know the storm
The boy fi kill we dawg
That nuh sure fi born bag a man a dead
We full a corn like we own the farm
Slam it inna head
Boy turn off cah the chrome is on
Squeeze the trigger so till all
Me index finger bone deformed
Paco General go kill dem off
And that's the only plan

Dem no know 'bout badness yet
Dem just don't know
Only bad behind the mic inna the studio
(grung) me pull up a heckle and kotch
And tell him fit it up back
And him a ask me weh this fi go
Gun 'pon me belly everyweh a so me go
From you diss, you're dead
Yo man and everybody know
Real life murder, me thing a never show
Real life murder, me thing a never show

When this rise, believe it
Don't bother feel like me nah squeeze it
So easy man a beat it boy
Dem a look dem cyaan believe
Dem a send threat, checkmate, too late
Him don just get wet
Him spot the rake and run gone fi him
Gun and dead before him reach it
Shot a fly like JetBlue, fly through vest
Fly through chest too
Him join the back a the line fi dead
And him a the first one get through
Him friend dem dead too
We run Mister Dead crew
Boy dem a shuffle like card

Dem no know 'bout badness yet
Dem just don't know
Only bad behind the mic inna the studio
(grung) me pull up a heckle and kotch
And tell him fit it up back
And him a ask me weh this fi go
Gun 'pon me belly everyweh a so me go
From you diss, you're dead
Yo man and everybody know
Real life murder, me thing a never show
Real life murder, me thing a never show

Kill dem one one, country I
Tell dem gang bang
Dynass dress up like madman
And creep up 'pon dem bang bang bang
Drizzle dress like business man
Link up screw dem and vision
Mastermind just set the plan
With the deh waan line each gang
Bow crafish, dem a crawfish
Every man slack off when me pop off this
Why you stop smile, take your last breathe
Closed casket and none a dem
No know weh cause it

Dem no know 'bout badness yet
Dem just don't know
Only bad behind the mic inna the studio
(grung) me pull up a heckle and kotch
And tell him fit it up back
And him a ask me weh this fi go
Gun 'pon me belly everyweh a so me go
From you diss, you're dead
Yo man and everybody know
Real life murder, me thing a never show
Real life murder, me thing a never show

Me bad from the early stages of the embryo
Sniper tun over the buffalo
Nyam him breakfast 'pon him owna patio
When mister dead ring you phone
Beg you do, no say, "Hello!"