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j.r. writer – kill em dead lyrics

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[hook – jr writer]
i get the bread while you in the red
i be getting fed, and you be getting fed
player-hater it’s the truth: i’ve been ahead
yellow paper in the booth: i k!ll em dead

forget the fighting, that n-gga down to front?
he getting h-lla-lightning popping out the trunk
let him think he tyson, f-ck around and jump
i’ve got my liquor license; how many ways you want?
i’ll led the k spray, tell em n-ggas make way
before i street sweep his -ss and get on my k slay
let him trip; i pull it then it’s may day
i’m from the knick, but my bullets stay in ak
i don’t play-play when it’s pay day
we’ll take so many shots you’ll need to go to aa
take a vacay, put me in your stupid flow
we’ll have the funeral right there at the studio
when i clap and i spray, caps in the k like ?
happen to play, clashing with j i’ll put you
with ? to back in the day
hey, you cats in the way
i don’t give a f-ck what you happen to say
i k!ll em, k!ll em, k!ll em dead
? in his grave

[hook – jr writer]
i get the bread while you in the red
i be getting fed, and you be getting fed
player-hater it’s the truth: i’ve been ahead
yellow paper in the booth: i k!ll em dead

[verse 2 – lloyd banks]
i k!ll em dead, try to steal his bread
.44 spilling lead; floors, walls, ceilings red
sport porsche getting head, they here but i came though cleaner
take care of everything on the meter
i’m cool with an eye on the nina
beemer, few goons on the set but i got mine too
it’s too late to hate, k!lled em for 9
ate 9 more before you fill this plate
ain’t from here, i’m just visiting
big is the house i’m living in. my car
fly, i’m super-cool. when it ?
this game i’m turning b-lls, f-ck these n-ggas i burn em all
i’m a strange case, not the average jack
you can have em back. fell in love with miss mary
we f-cking with the web on these clips
preparing for the day we gonna be rich, sh-t
corpse off the cliff, impound in the ground
b-tch find out how awful it gets
wake up, riding this all for the chips
i can’t afford to be side-tracked
i’m chilling, winning, rims spinning
real n-gga, on contact: banks

[hook – jr writer]
i get the bread while you in the red
i be getting fed, and you be getting fed
player-hater it’s the truth: i’ve been ahead
yellow paper in the booth: i k!ll em dead