a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

gawne - death to mumble rap lyrics

[verse 1: gawne]
this a warnin’ shot, to every motherf-ckin’
little one-hit-wonder
rap mumble brother
crypt and i figured it’d pay the bundle
so we teamed up top, five dead or alive
we’re bringin’ the rain and them goin’ insane
i’ll be choppin’ like a helicopter blade
man i will speak under, hump the jungle
stomach rumbles, lookin’ for somethin’, d-mn
where the f-ck’s lil pump at? i’m kinda hungry
these kittys, 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, luke’s benghazi, hillary, yeah
will i be a kamikaze and k!ll a beat?
n0body really wanted this smoke song
hittin’ ’em with the juul pod
nicotine, smokin’ ’em like a chicken in the rotisserie
big around a frickin’ detonator, incinerating
and straight up eviscerators, i consider eliminating
every hater in the visible vicinity like arnold schwarzenegger
terminator, f-ckin’ mumble rap exterminator
then again i spit it, wicked, demented and venomous
cause’ i’m sick of the bitter freakin’ diggin’ and reapin’ the benefits
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
jesus in suede shoes, i hit ’em and straight shoot
the skeletons walk through the elements
wordsmith, the letterman, way too compet-tive
rap with, the best of ’em, the veterans
and i’ve just entered the seventh level
i held the devil, mama, made it out the ghetto
so high, f-ck it and i be the illest when i feel of a villain
k!llin’ anybody on will, i’m villainous still a gorilla
my pillage a village, is in buildins’ pavilions
king kong, i’m prolly makin’ a song for kim jon
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 sh-ttin’ tracks at mumble rap
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, k!ll ’em all, fentanyl, blow ’em up
molotov, mazel tov, death to mumble, i rule the game

[verse 2: futuristic]
(sheesh! yo)
yo, i’m not a hater, but i’ll call a n-gga out on his sh-t
i see alot 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, ya’ll some vultures
f-ck that!
prayin’ on they downfalls
and bump that!
use this music, dudes is foolish?
ignorant n-ggas 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
any, i’ma up that
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 the rap, but now i’m joinin’ with a come-back!
i’m tired of verses without a purpose
i’m tired of guns in the videos
i’m sick of faking it until you make it
that sh-t don’t make sense when you really broke
i’m sick of that mumbling bs, that music that regress
i just wanna see less
i’m tired of seein’ the homies on shirts with the r.i.p
letters right over they heat press!
get yo’ 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 till’ i stretch the cords
mumble rap: 0, us: 4, check the score
there’s somebody to come at me, i’m the best with war
i move in silence, comin’ up like tesla doors!

[verse 3: crypt]
(unh! yeah! hunh!)
i don’t really know what to do, be comin’ and spit fast
flow so immaculate, give me a pat on the back
like i’m [?], i got these haters in check
i leave a mess if they thinkin’ of steppin’ up to the best
then give ’em whiplash
whether if you noddin’ up and down from the beat or the track
i’m givin’ ’em uppercuts till’ their feet is up in their -ss
i’ma k!ll a mumblin’ motherf-cker before he k!ll somebody else
with the message that he’s tryna make on the past
h-llo motherf-cker, you heard me right?
guess its hard to listen when your head is filled with purpose right?
get merked tonight, cause’ b-tches like you deserve to die
get hurt inside with rhymes and it’s absurd that i
have to come back and reiterate this sh-t
i’ma charge you a fee for extending my hit-list
play stupid games, win stupid prizes
they’ll have you forever lookin’ at the back of your eyelids
and yeah, we just got back from a funeral
luke, mac, crypt and futuristic, it was beautiful
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
we don’t play around, the audience should know it now
now i’m not sayin’ we played a part in the death
but to be honest if ever the plane goes around
we take responsibility fore’ we dig ’em up and k!ll ’em again!

[verse 4: mac lethal, gawne & crypt]
oh, ya’ll sell tickets like marvel movies?
well i still hate it like scorsese
ya’ll are just food from mcdonald’s
and i am a gourmet filet that’s more tasty
i’m more crazy then 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 rapping fast, doesn’t mean that you’re sayin’ something
ya’ll muhf-ckers rap so d-mn 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 m-th-f-ckin’ -ss should
shoulda coulda woulda hit a hood up with a sack of
-n-lytical, metaphysical mastermind
i’m makin’ a f-ckin’ mockery of anybody
makin’ an attempt to take the f-ckin’ top from me
a brutal -ss is beatin’ get the broccoli
(bru-bru!) 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 washing to the sh0r-, ay
i’m ridin’ to the core, catch a body, maybe four
i’m gonna drop you to the floor like this is gatti vs ward
i got a shotty and a sword, in fact i’m already at war
you know i got a >❓❓<, and i'm stompin' you some more you'll be dead, body in the morgue, talking to the lord you ain't got an audience no more, all of 'em are bored you don't party anymore, n0body 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 motherf-ckin' pants up, your coochie stank f-ck the dumb-ss 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 in the game give even half a little bit of fame to another motherf-cker that got little in his name, f-ck gucci you should join the literacy gang kids used to want to be astronauts in sp-ce 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

- gawne lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS