Grim Sickers - The Intercontinental Riddim lyrics

[Verse 1: Hitman Tiga] It's me All the girl dem girl Hitman T Could've been a drum and a ba** to MC But I'm never gonna no waste an MC Might get one in the face to MC Hitman T, the gooner MC Click click boom, the boom, the MC Mop, stick, broom the room, the MC Bare man dead in tomb, the MC Man can't war the, war the MC Still got a ting in the car, the MC If a man pattern my bar, the MC Couldn't have patterned a harder MC Hitman T, the farda MC I touch mic and farda MC Spit sixteen and bar the MC Beat my ting and corner MC Man are yardman, no Ghana MC Stamp out man like Ghana MC Fan of real boa**y, boa**y MC When I frontline, I call the MC Kweff Gang army, barmy MC Man beat kweff and corny MC Hitman T, the warry MC f** you and your sorry MC [Verse 2: Grim Sickers] I'll leave man slumped with his headtop burst Rolled on man, he should've slumped me first Came in the game screaming out "100 Bags" Came in the game screaming out "Black Bin Bag" Came in the game wearing all-black Call out Grim, what you reckon? f** that, Lord knows I'll shav him, ayy Made million, prep him So [?] in heaven [?] armageddon Corn like Grim, must've been nuts Lay a man down face down in the mud Lay a man down face down in the dirt He can't check me first What I've done can't get re-did I'll start moving 666, blud Stains on my wrist, blud, stains on my kicks Kick him once, kick him again Kick him one more time, make sure that the job's done Sending for Sickers, that's natural disaster Sent over head like fracture Sent to the sky like Kimbo Sent to the sky like Thatcher Oh [Verse 3: Hitman Tiga] It's Hitman T, not Fetty One eye closed like Fetty Wap, wap, wap, no Fetty Ring, ring, trap like Fekky Man spray crud and tekky Man bruck shot like Teddy Man trap bud and pecky Trap, trap, trap, no brekky In the safehouse, no settee Man have got plugs, no 'leccy Man try test my patterns Bless water then splash 'em Don't take cheques, man cash 'em Lines get built and flattened Don't cat next man's patterns Can't tek tings and jack 'em Splash, splash, splash, no chatting Kweff, kweff, kweff, no rapping Black bin bag him Man ah move grim like Sickers Man are real nasty savage Go-go gadget Hop out the Polo, pull out the pogo Make a whole crew disappear like magic You lot are sh** so it ain't that tragic Wap, wap, wap, that's a John Doe cabbage Any MC that nobody misses Headshot, mek a man swim with the fishes Man tried spin what I spun so I span them Everyting dead, got calm for your Mrs [Verse 4: Grim Sickers] Kick him on the floor, man, till he can't move Can't be Grim that you're talking to Throwing man off from a bird's-eye view Lick off his head like kweff kwaff kwoo Grab man up, tie man to the rail Turn the whole ting into Vybz Kartel Lick man with the bottom of the Martell And a few bob like a quick car sale, oh I'm back on the roster I'll start going Cantona in Costa Lick off your head like Guinness and Foster Spin an MC like DJ Roska Turn a ting into Shane McMahon I'll start raining down on your clart You will get a pierce in your liver and heart You will get a push like a car jump start Yeah, I show no remorse When blood starts dripping like hot pepper sauce Dump in a bush, no space in the morgue Leave an MC cold, flat on the floor You can get duck tape, you can get Sello You can get Amir Khan and Canelo I'll run up on man like "hello" Kick man until he's black and yellow