melo flamez – last kenpachi lyrics
[verse 1: melo flamez]
its the return of the soul reaper
tryna’ keep it then you better peep ya’ soul defense
im power driven, swear im k!llin power the hour n-gg-
better call 911, twin towers wit us
excuse me i meant tower
save ya grace like topher
thats 70 clips that’ll show you that im far from boastin
and it ain’t over til ya overies overexposin
i make em pop up hot, like they just finished toastin
brush ya teeth with my blade i layered the sh-t wit colgate
once slash and you’ll be swimmin in a dream ocean
i swear im out here huntin hollows like a wrecking crew
wit the brutality to split a f-ckin neck in two
wit bare hands so bare witness to these bear hands
polar, grizzly, panda, just prance in despair man
ya prize is a ride to death, im just tryna’ make it fair, fam
get it, like carnivals
carnal carnivore
carnage wit the art of war
carnys and cars wit carts carryin what i preform
down your throat, there goes my sword
breathin flames on beats galore
you walkin a tight rope, no wonder that ya feet so sore
ladies and gentlemen, i present the feast of beats and more
[chorus]
weak rappers on the cloud, i come to shut this sh-t down
you ain’t really got no style, you all verbs, herbs and nouns
you deserve to be found by the nearest dump in town
just let me k!ll you right now
f-ck ya likes and play count
how bout i just play count and bite you n-gg-s wit my mouth
and take flight wit a bat and beat ya brains into the ground
you sad, depressed, privileged b-tches actin like you never smiled
get ya own style and stop wit the fiji and the frowns
[verse 2: melo flamez]
im far from bein done, you medium rare, still bleedin let me cook it some
you n-gg-s is uber, you slackin, needa pick it up
should give you a star or 2 because you f-ckin suck
hit em wit the dps and a preceding stun
feel the terror when i hit you wit these big puns
you fat joes is average, ya squad is really lackin
a movement, and bowels
think you in good hands askin for hand outs?
are you sure your families really proud?
you proud of pennys? need an oscar for the way you sound
ill put an “m” on you monkeys heads like im dexter
k!llers wit pistols akimbo k!llin, they ambidextrous
[chorus]
weak rappers on the cloud, i come to shut this sh-t down
you ain’t really got no style, you all verbs, herbs and nouns
you deserve to be found by the nearest dump in town
just let me k!ll you right now
f-ck ya likes and play count
how bout i just play count and bite you n-gg-s wit my mouth
and take flight wit a bat and beat ya brains into the ground
you sad, depressed, privileged b-tches actin like you never smiled
get ya own style and stop wit the fiji and the frowns
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