Brotha Lynch Hung - Strangeulation II lyrics

[Verse 1: Godemis] Pamet u glavu Deevil! Prayin' at 12:12 for hell, felon to sell And slept on a bed of nails, like nothing I've ever felt Ghost in a shell was molded with other demons As if I needed some help or a host to preserve the heathen Got it, my brain is rotted, I swear to God that I'm not it I'm set to go to the gallow as soon as the rope is knotted I ain't highest of high then the hydra have used adrenaline Came in the cypher clean, still smelling like putrid cinnamon Then I'm in, enemy of the state, I'm straight at an angle Stop risking and quit your b**hin', it ain't like I'm raping a angel Said I was magnifique, ya'll ain't f**in' with it, capiche? Not as safe as you would've thought with the devil under your feet They throw a shot and then sit back and wait for some reaction Ain't nothing to it but to do it, I'm a mummy rappin' So get to clappin' or dissin' the clan you hatin' Listen, the man is Jason and this is the Strangeulation [Verse 2: Stevie Stone] Stevie Stone, I'm on it, I'm so clever Nobody comparing, I'm better, I put sh** together America's most elaborate rap, pick ya head up, huh Small talkin'll get you wet up, huh, yeah I'm ready to k** all you n***as The feelin', adrenaline that'll spillin' a mill And yeah, I mill' all you n***as Ain't even reach out they climax, rather my celing on n***as And backin' a back, I'll backhand Billy you n***as Get busy on n***as, this ain't no random some leakage Stonie in the building, the b**hes pull out their cleavage The snake and the bat, you see them prominent features The species, Strangeland, we rain on your region, huh Meat wagon, I come, I be taggin' 'em Baggin' 'em, bring 'em clusters of three, got three magnums Gaggin' em out, you pussies is still talkin' I'm draggin' 'em out, I'm tappin' 'em out [Verse 3: Murs] Aww sh**, they f**ed around and signed a backpacker Smart, rich, handsome, plus he's not a bad rapper I'm just a little local talent that f**ed around and made it big Underground bully, pickin' on all these famous kids And the danger is, now I'm doin' stranger biz About to make the world forget about what a major is Independent Powerhouse, running all these cowards out My enemies are all forgotten, wishin' I would shout 'em out And I don't want to hear a rapper harmonize unless He thuggish, ruggish, Lazy, Krayzie, Bizzy, Wish or Flesh But maybe I'm just hatin' cause my black a** could never sing And f** that autotune I hope the Futures filled with better things And you a f**ing liar if you say you found a better team Impossible! Like trying to fit my dick inside my wedding ring And all the bread it brings will be distributed and properly I represent for hip hop not some f**ing aristocracy [Verse 4: Brotha Lynch Hung] I'm the Martin Scorsese of rap, rap predator Better than severin' the reverend with a jackknife Kevin and eleven of 'em, revvin' up the engines We bubblin' up like 7-Up, then when We shoot that sh**, we eat that sh** for din-din, grrr I don't need ya f**in' okay, ah, are you serious? I'm okay I'mma make you bleed like it's your period, period I eat period p**y so eating you ain't serious What, you need for me to flip that sh** and rip that sh** Like a skitzo, stick that sh**, that sh**, like a automatic pistol grip? No! I created this fast rap, I'm past that I put a gat in that a**crack and blast that I'm light years ahead of 'em, might use the head of 'em I lose, then you can keep the breadcrumbs Grrr, my n***a, I'm a carnivore Ready for any kind of war, any kind of score