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letters from dead rappers – dead pizza lyrics

[verse 1: dredaprince]

how you like me now?
terrorist, imma smoke a bomb right now
apparently i’m awesome, plenty b-tches wanna toss me
i love head with them it’s glossy
make my chick think she the boss of me, cautiously
i be smoking k!lla for a living
ugly n-gga with a rhythm
call me son of mike bivins
poison ivy got me trippin – see a ribbon in the sky
steven tyler with the sounds
stevie wonder with the eyes
theres no n-gga i despise
i climb, vibe, just to provide
do you want to ride in the back of a caddy?
i’m daddy, come feel on the rise
ay, bite down, on a pill
-ss look fake but i swear to god it’s real

[hook: seymour black]

i got pain, i got soul, yes i do
put these haters on hiatus, they gon lose
i got weed, i got drink, and i don’t choose
wait, all of you n-ggas is fake
how am i supposed to relate?

[verse 2: smiley tha ghost)

tether on my leg, police got me dead
still come alive in the night time
thats the right time to get bread
this pain changed me, i’m angry
it’s quicker to jump off the edge
my n-gga, just show me the ledge
wait, wait, i was just playing
she give me head, i turn super saiyan
then she make a wish on my dragon b-lls
-n-lyzing everything
gotta get the money, i rather if it was sunny
wise words from a decent man
that’ll take a slice of yo neck
papa john, i’m the pizza man
papa john, i’m the pizza man
papa john, i’m the pizza man

[verse 3: sincere]

it’s been a long time coming
i been pacing on the money road
i only know one way, sh-t
i ain’t make it in the honor roll
tryna feed five of my sons
i took a job at dominos
i saved up a couple checks, started looking for a half a bol
this sh-t was just moving fast, i’d do a hit for the low
my sons screamin daddy, some sons put on them lonely roads
sh-t, how the f-ck you think i know?
i chose to go down them roads
i live by my gun, so i bet i get blowed
smoking gas with yo btich and i bet she get blowed
watch her, before she go to sleep i don’t bet i get blowed
cop a bag for tha kid, now thats double what i’m on
bad b-tch thats off the henny then fill her back with patron

[hook]

i got pain, i got soul, yes i do
put these haters on hiatus, they gon lose
i got weed, i got drink, and i don’t choose
wait, all of you n-ggas is fake
how am i supposed to relate?

[verse 4: seymour black]

a lot of these rappers still sharing their bars like they tryna relay
ooh, i put ya fave out the race
hate, all the f-ck sh-t your portray
don’t give a f-ck where you stay
still getting face from yo bae
catching my kids on her face
cause i got a deal in the bay
yeah, ooh
like a ball pit, she was played out, wow
tell the f-ck girls come wipe me down
im a real n-gga all in my prime
can’t find another like him, then or now
f-ck yo style, f-ck yo time
won’t take long imma push it to a limit
can’t f-ck with you middle n-ggas
i’m about my skrilla
can’t get with the rhythm and i swear
i had the vision since biddle
no riddle, that n-gga
go figure, you was little little

[hook]

i got pain, i got soul, yes i do
put these haters on hiatus, they gon lose
i got weed, i got drink, and i don’t choose
wait, all of you n-ggas is fake
how am i supposed to relate?

- letters from dead rappers lyrics

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