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children of the corn - ill flow lyrics

[hook x2]
i’m lettin’ n+ggas know they can’t f+ck with my ill flow
i’m lettin’ n+ggas know they can’t f+ck with my ill flow
i’m lettin’ n+ggas know they can’t f+ck with my ill flow
cause i’m a wickedess +wickedess +brrrr wickedess

[verse 1 + bloodshed]
aiyyo, i got a bullet vest, n+ggas that fes’
i’m on some new stress, walk around with a smith wess’
givin’ heart tests, i’m heartless
on some ill sh+t, i’m out to spark sh+t
you wanna stay alive, then money don’t get on my spark list
straight up f+ckin’ murderer who don’t play, i f+cking slay
so f+ck around and get your brains blown like jfk
richard kuklinski that’s my idol, all about survival
my gat leaves n+ggas more holy then the f+cking bible
but aiyyo it gets worse, i spark a church
i’m the type to make your grandmoms grab her f+cking purse
my life is f+cked up, worse+r then that, my life’s a stressed world
yo, even the fresh girls get sprayed up like s+curls
assassin+ater brought up by the ways of a tec
a nine, a gat, a glock is all i need to catch wreck
bloodshed; a buddha head, known for flippin’ when i’m trippin’
i put the f+ckin’ clip in then i’m leaving n+ggas drippin’
a madman public nuisance, i’m like a heart threat
leave n+ggas slain on the train like bernhard goetz
a murderer, f+cking with me, you must got problems
i’ll make you wish your pops would’ve used a f+cking condom
i used to sell cracks, break bones and backs
now i bust raps, catch gats, glocks and macs
i’m leavin’ bullet scars, f+ck usin’ a knife
buck ya twice, take your life, plus your afterlife
eyes are ch+nky like an oriental, far from gentle
i guess i’m just f+cked up in the mental
leavin’ ’em dead bloodshed; nasty ass brother
lock ya mom’s door cause i’m a bad m+th+f+cka

[hook]
i’m lettin’ n+ggas know they can’t f+ck with my ill flow
i’m lettin’ n+ggas know they can’t f+ck with my ill flow
i’m lettin’ n+ggas know they can’t f+ck with my ill flow
cause i’m a wickedess +wickedess +brrrr wickedess

[verse 2 + murda mase]
i hate when, n+ggas with clips on they hip be tryna flip
so i remain gang bangin’, f+ck the bloods and crips
f+ckin’ with a n+gga who spent half of his life upstate
couldn’t even p+ss straight, carryin’ a .38
crack i never drop, phillies get me high
drive+by sight+seein’ watchin’ n+ggas die
you step to get a rep with murda mase and you’ll be finished
you’re f+ckin’ with a lunatic, a arsonist, a menace
i get roast when i produce a n+gga don’t split
catch a fit, lose my mind and pull my .9 and just buck sh+t
had beef, with some n+gga named vic from st. nick
saw him and some broad in the accord, i said cl!ck+cl!ck (bloaw)
the couple found slain, new n+gga; insane
but no crews remain, but stains from blood and brains
his blood had to spill, he had to be k!lled
he left his money, his car and house in his will
i’m definitely not no joke, i’ll get your sh+t broke
cause i believe in front you’re bendin’ with your barber and that smoke
and i always keep a clip for the n+ggas who wanna flip
so don’t even touch it son, go ‘head with that bullsh+t
and i done k!lled so many troops, i oughta be sued
made tom parlay, but still slay for the loop
and if you reep what you sew, then death i reep
cause i been sewin’ lynchin’ n+ggas every day of the week
when i was young i was strung on the books like a brainiac
but now i’m hooked on being a crook, so call me a maniac
go get your crew to waste me, they won’t change me
n+ggas scared to jump me, they won’t even face me
cause chumps can’t daze me and punks can’t faze me
never get ghost like swayze, a madman raised me
i know my menace is up, don’t cut me off and get smacked
with shots of b.b.o., but i’ll be back

[verse 3 + k!lla kam]
k!lla kam is all that, i stay dipped with the crip on my hip
flip the script when i get jipped, now i empty clips
so shut your lip before i have a vendetta, ain’t n0body better
known i got sh+t sewn like a knitted sweater
when i was little i was dropped by my pops, not by cops
now i grab my jock and rock your block with the glock
pelle as soon as i say slay, it’s mayday to straight play, aj got the ak on payday
i grab a purse or calls a nurse, but first you wanna get in a he+rs+?
when i burst, sh+ts disperse cause i’m the f+ckin’ worse
i put a curse in every verse and i don’t rehe+rs+
(yo kam, kick flavor) yo money, why you f+ckin’ thirst’?
i’m leavin’ n+ggas slain, dead in the rain
have you walkin’ with a cane cause the bludgeon is pain
i’m stakin’ churches and libraries, very commissary
the knotty gotti and my shotty got more bodies than a cemetary
you’ll get flu cause it’s known that i’ve flown bigger
me and my chrome trigger, i flip on my own n+ggas
i own casinos in rino, i’m like a valentino
petino anino, and cane fury’s gambinos
you gainin’ and drainin’ sustainin’ the tec
i’m used to slicin’ n+ggas throats; so i’m a pain in the neck, right?
i slip ’em and trip ’em and grip ’em
smack them then crack ’em
beat ’em and treat ’em then eat ’em
chug ’em and buck ’em then f+ck ’em
vic ’em, stick ’em then fl!ck ’em
grab a nap and then jab
grab the ass when i f+ck
then f+cked your mother then fried up
now chill yo, i don’t even think you should still blow
no real bro, but peel show could f+ck with my ill flow, n+gga
ahaha

[outro + murda mase]
ayo word up word up chill man chill
peace out to all of them n+ggas on the corner doin’ somethin’ they ain’t got no business doin’
‘we got the dime and a nickel’ crew
my man a.g., my man will, my man tre dogz, my man kam, my man dre, all ’em n+ggas out there
yo mel, king, cig, bush, ‘n’ all ’em
yo big shouts to all my b+tches
and word up the lil holster

[k!lla kam]
my man skeeter, my man don and everybody else i forgot and to all of my b+tches

[bloodshed]
word up, you n+ggas doin’ that sh+t on the corner

[murda mase]
b.b.o. do it again

[bloodshed]
the whole live
mase murda like them other, b
word up

[murda mase]
stu+

- children of the corn lyrics

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