Davel "Bo" McKenzie - Righteous k** lyrics

[Verse 1] I'm a f**ing thunderstorm, you's a light shower You a b**h, you shoot and miss like Dwight Howard You can't battle the god, I'm too precise coward That's like Khalid Muhammad saying he's White Power This the machete that your organs getting sliced out with The blind motherf**er in the village, Bryce Howard My brain only function proper in the night hours You might own a f**ing label but the mic ours My sh** hi-tech, lord, like a plastic bomb An a**hole, I punch people with gla**es on Anybody disagreeable we mashing on I only f** with green and gold god magic wand An encore is the only thing that you clapping on I'm a pitbull, p**y, you a papillon A b**h get a 40 from me, not a gla** of Dom I'm the G-29 in the a**a**in's palm [Hook] All I hear is danger, all I see is danger All you hear is “run, run, here come danger” Shatter dreams like Freddy your thoughts rearrange ya Stare d**h dead in the eyes, it'll change ya [Verse 2] It's a righteous k**, I don't do nothing but write and k** Drink 40's, smoke L's, push the white and krill I move strong and fast, I have a bison's will I'm the motherf**ing champ, I'm the fighting Phils I'm from the city of the syrup and Vicodin pills From the city the most fearless of fighters was filmed The city where we have the most street veterans still The Moors, Nuwaubians, Five Percenters will build I'm from Philly motherf**er, the rawest it comes I make your body disappear, I'm a sorcerer's tongue You live your whole life in fear that the torture will come I hope my music is revered like a portrait of Pun I'm paranoid god here in my fortress with guns I had a void god, filled it with who*es and with blunts I ain't have a choice god, I was born in the slums I ain't have a voice god till I slaughtered the drums [Hook] [Verse 3] Yeah, the four-fifth is a melon popper Hollow tips spin your body like a helicopter Anything can move god if you sell it proper And I've been through more viewings than a teleprompter This is horrorcore beat, got hella monsters My team's got more Gs than a spelling proctor Y'all ain't never moved D, y'all are petty choppers I got a vicious left hook, call me Eddie Thomas But I'm raw with the right hand Like Jack Johnson fighting against the white man Yeah I'm about to shorten your life span Evil sh** can be good if it's in the right hands I make motherf**ers burn, you a slight tan I keep a motherf**ing urn on my nightstand So wait your motherf**ing turn like a hype man I bury you with the snitches under the white sand