[feat. The Journalist & Yukmouth]
If you ever disrespect I, put you outta yo misery put you out put you out put ya outta yo misery; If you run up on my set I; I'm a MFN vet I; You bout to make me cock, back, aim my mission is to pop that brain.
This merciless, this is musical massacre, mammoth image my motive mane no merkin' us mimicin' muhfuckas may mock, but on my momma millimeter my missions mo murder make millions mack mommies and mosh.
This is pain this unforgettable thang is my talent untamable Tech is the tyranny bang, on you niggas who never, have respect for whoever, pullin' you pussies apart my competitor's plain.
In the dark when they sleep on my incredible heat, fuck you I'm fed up my fist for you faggot's and freak's, go tell yo industry peep's that fuck peace released, B's for Blood we bangin' and blastin' at beef.
This is ignorant, get a wiff of his lyric's so rigorous niggerish carnivorous delivery, come with it'll be bitches and thizzery, fuck with me and believe that we killas will put you right outta yo misery.
My split is psycho like Michael's knife admire ya Freddy Crouger then dream yo life, my brain is too deep I can think alive, and kill death itself, in one of my freestyle lines, lyrically rappers aren't better than me, cause I'm hard in this rap game you lighter than a feather da me, so come with it it's the devil in me that'll blast at ya afterlife until yo ass is restin' in peace, mafucka you don't want it with a gangsta sixteen shots in have my lil' brotha shank ya thank you no thank ya boy rearrange ya heads with ya head, heads up and I'll bang ya I hear ya barkin' but you ain't bit shit, my shots dig through they call'em hallow tips it's a killa season an you ain't killed shit, Misery Loves Kompany now a compliment bitch.
This is, misery misery artillery for the killin' spree hit the block see the enemy kill'em off like a Kennedy, Ecstasy Hennessy and a lemon squeeze you niggas finna be put on obituaries and white tees that's misery.
Rome to Italy ridin' on chrome literally, Yuk Godzilla King Kong ain't got shit on me, riddle me riddle me which rapper gone snitch on me when I shoot up his Bentley and put him out of his misery.
They asked about the beef with Game and The Unit, squashed my beef with The Game and do my thang with The Unit, Bo signed ta Cashville I'm makin' it rain in Houston, Rap A Lot for life you find you body slain in Houston bitch.
I'm on the block with that Praline until the cop's jumpin' out the van like the A-Team, I slang cream, the West Coast Don and Kansas City King you ain't know, Tecca Nina General in the regime.
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