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Slaine – Crillionaires (feat. Q-Unique & Ill Bill)

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исполнитель Slaine

длительность 03:25

размер 7.84 MB

битрейт 320 kbps

загружено MC.Searcher

Crillionaires (feat. Q-Unique & Ill Bill)
Witnessin the sinister, spittin on your minister Splittin up your skin, clip and trigger will diminish ya Torch the competitor, score and get ahead of ya Work a drone alien at war with the Predator , Q they go to trial when you found dead down and under Hear the sound of Thunder, enter the God Thor Standing with the hammer killer, what you think you shot for? You tried to cut the line, you tried to fuck with mine You wanna sleep stupid? Go ahead, hit the hay When I pop shots, watch bullets ricochet Reputed mob boss make the drop off Enemies are shakin when they heard a shotty pop off ++, kill 'em in the morn I'm on an "Award Tour" with the +Children of the Corn+ We Crillionaires, won't stop till we millionaires Popping off Mac milli shells fill the air Leaving you see through, bullet through your people When we creep through we street sweeper Grim Reap' you I come from a world where things are not always what they seem Use symbols to connect into your dreams, and nightmares Thieves of the night scale skyscrapers and dive out of windows Like characters from Hollywood films... This ain't no movie script, it's excitingly real Nuclear devices the size of a pill Lightning in a test tube, write me the bill Black budgets, hundreds of billions of dollars in funding Private gunmen hunted by governments, I'm havin fun with it But hardly sleep, aim my RPG, spark your D Pop the Marines, the steel was given to me by the Elohim I rock your motherfuckin block into smithereens Sell you pistols cheap, take the bread and flip 'em into ki's Then flip it back to bread, bubble like Actifed You can buy yourself a small army if you act correct You could catch a bullet in your brain at the red You could overthrow the free world while you laugh at death You should know who we are, throw a motherfucker from a movin car Tell em I'm a movie star run into a groupie's bra Rip the sample off man, fuck what kind of rules there are Rip the sample off the song, beat you with the blues guitar Frequent in the nudie bar, live inside the drug den Told me I'm a has-been, that's just what I was then I'm a fucking will-be, I'm innocent I'm takin what I want until they kill me, or they find me guilty I'm filthy, in this dirty business full of sunken labels Half these cats are products of cash and drunken fables 'til they come across the cats that'll leave you with the punctured navel Cut the fuck up like a plucked tomato, gun to the cradle Bumpin somethin, I got you pumpin something fatal 'til you wake up in a trunk with jumper cables 'til you wake up and you're surrounded by angels Q-Unique, Ill Bill, Slaine in this motherfucker Crillionaires~!
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