Terrace Martin - Lyrical Homicide (M.A.A.D City Remix) lyrics

Verse 1: Okay, let's start from the ending You b**hes pushed me to this Man, I'm so over the edge And I ain't talking 'bout no cliff I'm talking feeling unstable resorting to violence And as my tool of destruction: I'm shooting words out my lips My words created from vengeance; more deadly than hollow tips Weight of the world on my shoulders; my shoulders stacked up with chips I'm taking aim at the s**as who sat there just spouting doubt Silence you with the silencer that could rally a crowd I'm dropping bombs on the Judas, proving that karma is ruthless I can't eat pork, but I'll split you pigs open like oceans with Moses I'm concentrated and focused And in case you ain't noticed My murderous rhythm won't end until I make the world notice That I don't fit in the picture, don't give two sh**s 'bout your gram Your tweets went over my head, so I guess I must understand That your persona is fake, hiding in gra** like a snake Not showing your true intention as long as there's room to take A bite out of the success They tell me that they're impressed: "Boy you the best in the game, we run with you f** the rest" They keep lying to my face, last week they hated my race They love me now because I left and they can't keep up the pace I have nobody to trust, tell me ain't that f**ed up? They stopped calling me a terrorist the day I blew up I think that I've had enough; I'm sick and tired of waiting For them to give me success, so I'ma go out and take it My urge to k** is alive, my sympathy has died And I'll gladly lock up my freedom to go through lyrical homicide Chorus x2: Sticks and stones may break my bones But words can put me in a grave Sound the alarm then take cover Cuz bombs get dropped when this record gets played Verse 2: Can somebody line up every wanna-be rapper Sit'em down and tell'em that Christmas this year is come early Have'em pack up all their sh** and then send them on vacation My gift to you's early retirement rolled out on a gurney Cuz honestly I'm so sick, of listening to the same sh** You wasted three minutes talking 'bout the way Your Rolley tick You keep a bag filled with cash stashed in the hood of your whip You could've built up a city just from moving all those bricks We heard it all homie, we heard it all homie We heard it so much I could write your whole next album homie It must be hard for you, I know Trying to go through denial You try to pedal your way out but your wheels stuck in the cycle All your sh** sounds recycled and it's about damn time For me to clean up your act, cuz you all reading the same line The same script, well I'm about to tear down the whole set You walking a thin line and the bottom has no net Bury you so deep your fans have no choice but forget And if you try to come-back, well I'll end you And that's no threat This sh** here's a promise Man, I can't help being honest When you're this f**ing truthful Then there's no need to be modest If the truth hurts, then bleed Cuz I predict like a prophet Your apocalypse is coming and it's making me profit Chorus x2