3 Minute Murder - Chris Brown, Yo Gotti, Waka Flocka Flame

Twis' got skill, yes I kill

I get wild on they ass like Buffalo Bill

I be winnin' in the game like them niggas in the south

If a nigga talkin' shit I’m quick to hit em in the mouth

Them lyrics that’s the shit I be equipped to spit 'em out

And I’mma make a nigga sick cause I got venom in the mouth

Antonyms and synonyms are spinnin' him out of his route

And I got bricks of money, bitch and I can’t fit em in the couch

Kill 'em with the ride paints hard with the deep dish

Kill 'em with syllables quick wit 8 bars in a sequence

I am the bid’ness I gotta charge you to peep this

Niggas can’t see me I’m Ray Charles or a eclipse

Stevie in the blackout see me with the Mack out

Twista gon' get money like a GD in a crack house

When it come to flows I’mma spit 'em like they cold

When it come to niggas heads I’mma split it like a pole

Take away they swag and shit on they cocky style

Cuz my lyrics be too quick they call me Twista Pacquiao

come solo wit my k-olo

When you see my logo come take my photo when I’m on promo

Niggas wanna get me they better pick a new regimen

Shit too sick B somebody better go get you medicine

Not bringin' up Twista I’m makin' the issue relevant

Balls bigger than mine better go get two elephants

I be getting grimy but you and yo click too elegant

Beat yo face up till yo jaw tissue look like a pelican

I be steady whoopin' yo ass just fo' the hell of it

Can’t nobody fuck wit me the planet is celibate

I kick a hot flow, get it like Harpo

Brief when I rhyme teeth shine like a car show

Wit a thick bitch, go 'head check out my cargo

You know one gon' be wit me wherever my car go

Where yo baby at, where yo white Mercedes at?

I’ll let u borrow the Bentley as long as you bring it back

Here, a couple stacks, you ain’t gotta pay me back

Me and yo boss kick it and he know where the ladies at

Whether we comin' and killin' and murderin' cause I beat down the block

Or because I’m like «throw ya hands up» cause it’s hip hop

I’d rather be rappin' about the streets and makin' a quick pot

But it’s time to do something so the shorties don’t get popped

Meanwhile back to the lab I got the desert eagle

Come on yo muthafuckin tip and kill eleven people

Throw up on a priest let him know I ain’t no reverend

Either dat I go where the fuck I want I’m up in heaven evil

You ain’t gotta tell me I know I spit bars sick

E-mail, anthrax, flows kick arsenic

G-up genie and throw it up I’m car sick

Cut raw dope deez nigga cut garbage

Lethargic give a bitch hard dick

See my niggas and I say «salute» like a sergeant

Can’t lie I’m one of the coldest artists

So I wouldn’t have yo bitch up in my apartment

So I be passin' out «fuck you» flyers

To fakers and heaters and then fuck liars

If yo' shit ain’t one been one minded

The swine flu H1N1 virus

Am I like Jason?

No I’m more like Michael Myers

I am the shit I need to wear diapers

When I spit it sometimes I’m all too philosophical

Blame it on the Don Julio and killer tropical

Twista got more swag than a rich sissy

But don’t get prissy muthafuckas can get grilly

I’mma balla and a boss and yes I’m finna get paid

Takin' flames to the head like I’m Nicolas Cage

I ghost ride the whip I’m finna get laid

Any niggas dat try to get me is finna get sprayed

One day it’s possible dat I’m finna get saved

But for now I be getting money I’m finna get made, muthafucka

Fucka.

.fucka.. fucka.

.fucka