Shyheim, Lil’ Vicious - Spectacular lyrics
[Shyheim, Lil’ Vicious - Spectacular lyrics]
Tune your voicebox up (Yo, yo, yo)
(Yo, Shyheim man
I think that nigga jealous when I seen him)
Twenty-seven warrant squad
Wu Tang Killa Bee in here
(What's up? Kill nigga with the ice cube)
(What it feel like?) Yea, yea
Yea (If I said, betta dust him)
I swear for real, that story's over son
(Come murda with a straw)
What? (Indian) Come on
Fresh off American Airlines
First class-enger
You behind the curtain like
The 57th passenger why you wackin up? Faggot
Standin in the front and can't back it up
Me I'm spectacular, rock a Avi' and a durag
And mack a fur, shorty with the phat ass
I'm splashin her
Her man thinks he a thug cuz he in Attica
She deep throated my piss
Without me asking her
Suck the blood out my dick like Dracula
I cause a massacre
Don't miss the Grym Reaper
Blood'll run outta dem face and
Drip 'pon dem sneakas
Sick me knife ina dem chest
I still a ram it deepa
Absolute, foreva creepin through ya window
So me sing, melicious
Sound bad like a Freddie Cruger
Attack some pussyhole wit me German Luger
See me neva say somethin bout wha
Attack dem youths out
Neva know me idolize Castro from Cuba
Bounty hunter wit gun 'pon me shoulder
Disrespect de Killa song, and get told, uh
Shyheim, dem neva know murder-a
Have me gun, hafta ta shot dem, gunshot
Move back dem
What's the verdict? Guilty
How many times I've heard it
Shyheim should be locked down and murdered
I'm too dirty for detergent, so fuck Tide
I bring the drama, ask your honor
My rap sheet rhymes
Queen, posession of a number
Stabbin niggas knives
Observation, direction sales, 20 dimes
BI, take care of mines, and never wear slacks
Word to Big L and Sacks
Y'all youngings'll get clapped
By this Big Pun
Mad guns from the back of a Ac'
Fuck the movies they at
On the screen I react
Parlay, where the trees at? Burn somethin
Keep it dirty urine, pigeons say I'm fly
I reply "Who you tellin?"
Got so much game need my own cartridge
And an office, take 'em through a journey
Through my mental forest
Regardless, stay bombarded
To American Express, ghetto game, I charge it
Keep it on dual lock, gangsta dem 'pon me gun
Be the police, gangsta, pack machine gun
Shot up, informer, put in mind daddy grown
Gangsta and dem guns spar it out
Where dem man? Don't be shot me
Dem can't say gangsta
Gangsta, don't bet, no baby soldier
So ya betta watch it and hear what me say
Got Shyheim killin people in a
Week or day cuz
What the fuck, nigga?
(Yo, Shyheim man
I think that nigga jealous when I seen him)
Twenty-seven warrant squad
Wu Tang Killa Bee in here
(What's up? Kill nigga with the ice cube)
(What it feel like?) Yea, yea
Yea (If I said, betta dust him)
I swear for real, that story's over son
(Come murda with a straw)
What? (Indian) Come on
Fresh off American Airlines
First class-enger
You behind the curtain like
The 57th passenger why you wackin up? Faggot
Standin in the front and can't back it up
Me I'm spectacular, rock a Avi' and a durag
And mack a fur, shorty with the phat ass
I'm splashin her
Her man thinks he a thug cuz he in Attica
She deep throated my piss
Without me asking her
Suck the blood out my dick like Dracula
I cause a massacre
Don't miss the Grym Reaper
Blood'll run outta dem face and
Drip 'pon dem sneakas
Sick me knife ina dem chest
I still a ram it deepa
Absolute, foreva creepin through ya window
So me sing, melicious
Sound bad like a Freddie Cruger
Attack some pussyhole wit me German Luger
See me neva say somethin bout wha
Attack dem youths out
Neva know me idolize Castro from Cuba
Bounty hunter wit gun 'pon me shoulder
Disrespect de Killa song, and get told, uh
Shyheim, dem neva know murder-a
Have me gun, hafta ta shot dem, gunshot
Move back dem
What's the verdict? Guilty
How many times I've heard it
Shyheim should be locked down and murdered
I'm too dirty for detergent, so fuck Tide
I bring the drama, ask your honor
My rap sheet rhymes
Queen, posession of a number
Stabbin niggas knives
Observation, direction sales, 20 dimes
BI, take care of mines, and never wear slacks
Word to Big L and Sacks
Y'all youngings'll get clapped
By this Big Pun
Mad guns from the back of a Ac'
Fuck the movies they at
On the screen I react
Parlay, where the trees at? Burn somethin
Keep it dirty urine, pigeons say I'm fly
I reply "Who you tellin?"
Got so much game need my own cartridge
And an office, take 'em through a journey
Through my mental forest
Regardless, stay bombarded
To American Express, ghetto game, I charge it
Keep it on dual lock, gangsta dem 'pon me gun
Be the police, gangsta, pack machine gun
Shot up, informer, put in mind daddy grown
Gangsta and dem guns spar it out
Where dem man? Don't be shot me
Dem can't say gangsta
Gangsta, don't bet, no baby soldier
So ya betta watch it and hear what me say
Got Shyheim killin people in a
Week or day cuz
What the fuck, nigga?