Styles P, N.O.R.E. - Manson Murder lyrics
[Styles P, N.O.R.E. - Manson Murder lyrics]
Believe me, if I started murdering people
There’d be none of you left
Basically, hit you with the hard nigga recipe
Fuck you! If you ain’t with me, or next to me
(Fuck you) i ain’t one for the small talk
Ghost'll get it in like Nucky on Boardwalk
Real grimy nigga though, I'ma let the 4 talk
You ain’t got to hear me dog
You could hear the lord talk
Uzi up the place when the
Shotty blow the doors off
Dream of dollar bills and killin
Niggas that the kid hate
Nuttin' on yo bitch face
Brain is in the sick place
Maybe it’s the wax or the
Fact that I’m shitfaced
Rap spelled backward is par –
You ain’t up to that
If your shit sound wack I had enough of that
Fuck em all from the bottom to the top
If you left it up to me
Yea all of 'em get shot
A bullseye on the forehead
Fuck wack rappers, leave em all dead
Why do you wanna call me a murderer for?
I’ve never killed anyone
I don’t need to kill anyone i think it
Voices in the attic, bodies in the basement
People under the stairs hold
My guns and chasin
When I buy a brick I bring
A base head to taste it zombies out here
Yea this shit is like a wasteland
I don’t give a fuck about
No goddamn bath salts
P91 to blow half of your mass off
Face all over the asphalt
No track down here but whips is like NASCAR
Weed in the glass jar
Shot em in the head ‘cause the trash words
Then I got ghosts like Casper
No, I get ghosts like myself
If I rap like you I put the toast to myself
I shit on you, the mic booth in your board
Why don’t you find a bridge
And bungee with no chord
Or build yourself a pool full of swords
Dive in it
Next time you rhyme put your mind in it
Maybe I should’ve killed 4 to 500 people
Then I would’ve felt better
The healthiest nigga in New York
Smoking Newport’s
I’m not a new boos, I’m in the new Porsche
My Nike sneakers, it be my like sneakers
Jogging on the beach with my wife beaters
Word to Obama mama, Jeffrey Dahmer drama
Swiss got keys, pianos and Alicia
When I be talkin keys I’m
Talkin coke and the Keisha
I know chicks that swallow cum
And they still suck it
Miscarriage hoes, fowl cuz they still fuckin
You know the deal
They don’t even wait to heal
My booster bitches – they can’t
Even wait to steal
My favorite sex position is the 69
I fuck er at 6 while holdin my 9
Amsterdam, stuff blunts, call em sumos
Walkin out the walk
With a veggie meal you know
Kick yo feet up like weed up, show yo speeder
I’m the king, man i run the underworld, guy
I make the money, man i change minds
There’d be none of you left
Basically, hit you with the hard nigga recipe
Fuck you! If you ain’t with me, or next to me
(Fuck you) i ain’t one for the small talk
Ghost'll get it in like Nucky on Boardwalk
Real grimy nigga though, I'ma let the 4 talk
You ain’t got to hear me dog
You could hear the lord talk
Uzi up the place when the
Shotty blow the doors off
Dream of dollar bills and killin
Niggas that the kid hate
Nuttin' on yo bitch face
Brain is in the sick place
Maybe it’s the wax or the
Fact that I’m shitfaced
Rap spelled backward is par –
You ain’t up to that
If your shit sound wack I had enough of that
Fuck em all from the bottom to the top
If you left it up to me
Yea all of 'em get shot
A bullseye on the forehead
Fuck wack rappers, leave em all dead
Why do you wanna call me a murderer for?
I’ve never killed anyone
I don’t need to kill anyone i think it
Voices in the attic, bodies in the basement
People under the stairs hold
My guns and chasin
When I buy a brick I bring
A base head to taste it zombies out here
Yea this shit is like a wasteland
I don’t give a fuck about
No goddamn bath salts
P91 to blow half of your mass off
Face all over the asphalt
No track down here but whips is like NASCAR
Weed in the glass jar
Shot em in the head ‘cause the trash words
Then I got ghosts like Casper
No, I get ghosts like myself
If I rap like you I put the toast to myself
I shit on you, the mic booth in your board
Why don’t you find a bridge
And bungee with no chord
Or build yourself a pool full of swords
Dive in it
Next time you rhyme put your mind in it
Maybe I should’ve killed 4 to 500 people
Then I would’ve felt better
The healthiest nigga in New York
Smoking Newport’s
I’m not a new boos, I’m in the new Porsche
My Nike sneakers, it be my like sneakers
Jogging on the beach with my wife beaters
Word to Obama mama, Jeffrey Dahmer drama
Swiss got keys, pianos and Alicia
When I be talkin keys I’m
Talkin coke and the Keisha
I know chicks that swallow cum
And they still suck it
Miscarriage hoes, fowl cuz they still fuckin
You know the deal
They don’t even wait to heal
My booster bitches – they can’t
Even wait to steal
My favorite sex position is the 69
I fuck er at 6 while holdin my 9
Amsterdam, stuff blunts, call em sumos
Walkin out the walk
With a veggie meal you know
Kick yo feet up like weed up, show yo speeder
I’m the king, man i run the underworld, guy
I make the money, man i change minds