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plan d, mc tadpole & suga shaha – death of a prophet lyrics

[verse 1: plan d]

i’d start it off straight but yungh prophet you’re just f-cking g-y

your voice is like you have downs and everyone knows it
“i’ll take over the game as the first r-t-rded poet”
your efforts to rhyme are worse than harrisons whip
there’s no place in canada for a belfast crip
look at you you’re more of a belfast b-tch
only girl you got with looks like a god d-mn witch
words of mike d: you’re whipping down granville street
beating your meat?
only b-tch is mom in the driver seat
you say i’m sneaking on komad
that wasn’t even that bad
compared to what i don’t get caught doing
steal so much i have every company suing
you couldn’t get away with stealing a dollar
let alone sell drugs, next time give me a holler
you lit off fireworks thinking you’re a baller
got arrested on halloween you’re tied up by collar
athletically unfit
play soccer on playstation no i wouldn’t count it
a prophet’s messenger from god
but i don’t remember sending anybody except arod
exiled i say your rap is forsaken
flow so smooth i leave you b-tches salivating
i’m mistaken i thought you were a girl
long ginger hair made me want to hurl (ugh)
speaking on family let’s talk about a foreigner
connor kelly gorman never should’ve let him cross the border
stop talking smack or i’ll make your one fan a mourner
now why don’t you run back to fin’s soccer boot corner

[verse 2: mc tadpole]
see yung prophet be lying on his diss track
cl-ssic for his fraud -ss to be talking such smack
addicted to adderall? i shoot down the claims collateral
rapping ibrahim like you some isis radical
addicted to the wealth can’t stop living the high life
you can’t get any b-tches even when they say they got no type
say my belt is fake, sounds like you can relate
sit your -ss down boy we bout to seal yo fate
got incest blood running through yo veins
cousin f-cking his sister so insane
big bird looking f-cker, of course your paths the same
know you’ll die alone, just sad you won’t get laid
yungh what bout your other lookalikes
wearing fake brands look like napoleon dynamite
calling out the gamo, don’t be a hypocrite
see you in your closet fronting so hard like
chat sh-t to me, get banged? oh the irony
got granville street locked down huh, oh the tyranny
tell me when a b-tch says to you get inside of me
stupid as f-ck don’t know your abcs
not a g in fact you ain’t even a real mc
yung prophet sound like suburban white boy all ova
grinding hard staring down kids in your corolla
dreaming bout the day you cruise in a range rover
push you down, no knees gonna make you fall over
you wanted the reply, said i was taking too long?
what you gonna do when i show up, motherf-cker. ding dong
here i am, couldn’t wait to get you back
but had to wait cuz you too busy hauling crack
where’s the heat i’m wondering is it there?
ah of course it’s hidden underneath the stairs

[verse 3: suga shaha]

thanks for not using my beat this time
now i can go sleep with a piece of mind
you wanted beef? that’s fine
cause now you deep inside
and there ain’t no getting out ’til we squeeze ya spine
it’s feeding time
it’s feeding time
yungh prophet, i’ma be honest, your career, you just f-ckin bombed it
flow so dry, cinnamon challenge, belfast crips, wannabe bandits
telling me i can’t make a beat?
telling me i can’t write a sheet?
telling me i can’t rap or speak?
then why the f-ck did you have to steal?
flow so real like a seminar riser
your only goals are materializing
say 2 months but it’s been 2 weeks
misinformation i critique
i really think you don’t deserve to breathe
jump off a building the highest peak
long haired man with his soccer cleats
more lame rapper’s the game don’t need
self-named master in the soccer leagues
go back to fifa on yo ps3
real rap shots are harder to save
so save yourself and get away
and another day, you can think about, the mistakes you made, like a fisherman
without a trout, without a doubt, your ginger mouth, will cause a drought
everything you say, straight out ya -ss hole
everybody hates straight out the bando
got more shots i don’t run my ammo
you picked the wrong m-th-f-cka to aggro!
f-ck with the team plan d & tadpole
we gon diminish u to a nano
they hear my flow and they thinkin bravo
then hear prophet and they thinkin cr-ploads
every prophet got a prophecy
yours is f-cking clear it reads
f-ck off or be history
you won’t even get a piece of me!
you about as clear as orange juice
the beat is still destroying you!
let me guess, you stole that too?
does cole washbrook even know?
the only girl who’s t-ts you got
is your mom whenever you wanna flaunt
a belfast b-tch with no flare
i don’t have to pretend cause i don’t care
the only thing i care about is you wrecking my very good beat
do you feel the defeat? all i do, is
demolish the boys on yo block like a warrior
make you faithless, go invest in a torah
problem is god wouldn’t ever rejoice ya
i dare you to respond, but don’t say i didn’t warn ya…

- plan d mc tadpole suga shaha lyrics

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