Tonart: A minor•
Verse 1
Am
F
Detroit listeners out there,
you better be sure to stop by the
Galaxy
Am
Club,
F
where there's a freestyle, super fly,
fresh contest going on tonight.
If you got the skill,
Am
you better get your hip -hop ass on down here.
We got
DJ
F
Khaled.
Mortification is my next demonstration.
I'd act you for a light,
pumpin' gas at the stage.
Here's my situation, I hate many people,
so I hear no, see no,
say no evil, just like
Knievel.
Leave you headless,
bloody mess like you was riding a
Ducati
Lottie
Dottie, broke every bone in your body
I'm not sorry, I'll probably murder you
Voice is telling me do what he say
Kill the
DJ, fuck what he play,
Mayday
Mayday
Boom, boom, blood's all over the room
I fucked your bitch like a witch
with a broom
Doomsday, murderers say
All y 'all must pay when the
buckshot spray
Who wants to challenge me?
Grab the mic and bust your rap
But then
I'ma just go grab my strap
And just commence to bustin' caps
Leavin' bodies piled up in
freestyle clubs
Fuck, you better make room
Boom, like what?
Am
What?
What?
Am
What?
When we show up
Am
F
Boom, boom, boom
Just run up in this bitch,
start bustin' up shots
Hittin' mirror balls,
laser lights and people on the top
I'm lookin' for the
DJ, cause he don't see it my way
I'm bout to blow him outta his head,
phone's expensive, maybe
K
I'm like a molly toff cocktail,
breakin' out your wall
I'm settin' shit off,
I'll blow your lid off, your body fall
You don't need aluminum,
I'm leavin' blood everywhere
And I'm aimin' for the head
and hair of everybody there
I'm like a grasshopper, quick to jump,
I'm spreadin' my wings
You say the wicked shit'll die,
I say you faggots see it then
And all you bitches know I'm gangsta,
don't ask me to dance
I might stay panicked,
pull the gat and blow your pussy out your pants
It's the wicked shit in
C &J, it's hotter than hell
And every devil's night we
hunt em down and slaughter
D12
I take the moose gun and shed your blood
and blow it out your back
Turn and face the camera when you're hatchin' sad,
throw him up, y 'all
What?
Am
F
Am
Y 'all make room, roomies show up,
What?
Am
What?
F
Am
Y 'all make room, roomies show up,
Am
F
What?
Am
Make room, guess who comin' in,
grab my gun again
They told me he was one of them,
so I done him in
A killer's on the hunt again,
smoke my gun again
C
Am
Fatality finished them, I'd run again
F
Re pentance my vengeance so I'm not
sentenced a hundred years
Am
It's burning my ears,
F
Am
and blood is mixed with my tears
F
My styles get rid of theirs,
drive -bys and wheelchairs
All you see is smoke in the air,
cause we don't care
Am
What?
F
Am
Y 'all make room for me so what?
What?
Am
What?
F
Y 'all make room for me so what?
Am
F
Boom, boom, boom
What?
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