Epmd - Manslaughter lyrics

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Epmd - Manslaughter lyrics

[pmd] manslaughter (repeat 4x) Verse one: erick sermon Code name e-d, check on the one two three Black male hard mc Rap record slave, a brother on the scene With a machine gun and one magazine Wanted, a half a million for the body alone Two million for the microphone If you see him, dial 5 dash slayer A hotline to the governor and mayor He's armed wit ammo, a weapon that's mine All black in rap, strap tech nine Silencer clipped, check the rip on the sneak tip The boy's about ta flip Manslaughter (repeat 2x) They call him manslaughter Manslaughter Verse two: pmd Code name md, rappin fanatic No short taken, black asiatic Hit man, keeps my belt unbuckled Book a look on my grill with no signs of a chuckle Or laughter, cause my name ain't casper The friendly ghost, but i smoke an mc if i have to Quick fast like alakazoo, alakazam And i'll be damned, cuz my rhymes slam like bam-bam Rubble, partner code name is e-double It's those hazel green eyes that keep my man in trouble Girls ride the tip, brothers on his sac I had to change my name to bruce wayne, also known as bat- Man, and grab the bozack wit this hand As i slay ya manslaughter Manslaughter They call him manslaughter Manslaughter Verse three: erick sermon Mad man fully strapped and i quote Don't flex, last chump who did, he got smoked Undercover, not d-t but e-d And wonder why you're spinning my records on thirty-three I'm the original, never did crime, i'm no criminal No static, pack a forty-five automatic Black cat strapped in rap, holding my johnson Walking the streets, a vigilante charles bronson As the beat kick, face his plate on the m1 done Style's sharper than the blade in shogun First s**ers disrupt the brain of a s**er mc That can't count one two three I manage to damage, i roast the whole membrane Insane, like a basehead doing c**aine I k** a farmer, plus his daughter Cause i'm the e-double, and this is manslaughter They call us manslaughter They call it manslaughter Manslaughter Verse four: pmd As i stare deep into the mirror, i could only resort To a hardcore gangsta, penile train of thought You're stomped out, you're beat down, you go big top sh** Run your trunk j**els or get, pistol whipped Cause i'm too swift to slip or miss a stitch on my rap hit Sleep on a s**er and you still can't get with Me bro, wit this flow and i don't know judo Gunflow is my style, say this so that you know There's no time to dance or romance with a nuisance Play ya like a puppet to put some lead in ya pants Then off you go to the rap rat pack Be stripped of your mic, punk on your head we stamped bozack That's what the doctor ordered Take two of these, dead, manslaughter They call it manslaughter They call it manslaughter Manslaughter To the farmer and his daughter, manslaughter