Murderer - Styles of Beyond

«The evil genius!»

«Green Lantern»

Yeah, I keep the head for the trophy

You’re newly wed steppin' to the legend of Goldy

Never let it control me

My etiquette slowly

Slips through your defense while I’m checkin' the goalie

Wow

Meet the Ice Man

Face mask semblance driftin'

Nice gems, an extraordinary gentleman

Sweep the villa with petite guerrillas

Blades on my heels slicin' like Ichi The Killer

I’ve got 'em on now

Spit on my lime and then toast and tough

Rhythm and rhyme associates

Aww, humble a band, watch

Get socked with either hand

Tak, and we don’t knock in a CD of Sedans

So feel it

You know the streets is with it

Never reach the limit

I keep kickin' through your weak position

I plant a bomb in the Pentagon

Masses lovin' it

Count down for the Demigodz

Blast the mothership

Yeah

A new species

Your crew’s feces

You better get it right before I have to use these things

(gun cock) (BLAM!)

And I ain’t messin' around

The L.A. crown is mine now

Reppin' for Styles c’mon

Murderer

Stop frontin' cause you know you ain’t a

Murderer

Act willie but you really ain’t a

Murderer

Every city every town on the drilly we get down

Kinda gritty so they holler out

The animal Letigera

Cheetah cause I eat 'em up

Drunk off Tequila punk

You see the Margarita cup?

Face covered in blood

Say somethin' what’s up

I got a pump with a full paint bucket of slugs

One, two, three and to the fo'

Dead broke and drunk, we snuck up in the show

Security’s a punk so we punched him in the nose

Like we don’t give a fuck

Cause we’re from the west coast

I pray for my enemies sake we shake hands

Cause I ain’t got nothin' to lose but eight fans

You got a few bruises, bumps and breaks man

I hit him with a club like Captain Cave Man!

Who wanna get up in some shit with Chan?

Get your whole body sprayed like Mystic Tan

I’m Saturday Night Liver than a Chris Kattan

On the mic cause you’ll never make the witness stand

Cause I’m a

Straight outta mosh pit

Crazy motherfucker named Celph Titled

Spittin' evil recitals right out of Hell’s Bible

Wack album on the rack, they coppin' that trash

So I’m aimin' for the bull’s eye

On Target shopping bags

It’ll cost some cash for y’all to get outta this beef

I heard you can’t fight without readin' a tip sheet

No

You won’t get a deal with Def Jam

The only way you gettin' signed is makin' music for a deaf man

Yes man

Demigodz, thuggin' the movement

At your photo shoot

Leave your crew covered in bruises

Better get you some make up to cover them bruises

You don’t wanna be on your album cover covered with bruises

You beats is mad wack

Where the fuck you came from?

Makin' tracks usin' the same drums as Wang Chung

My whole crew is insane son

Real hip hop gangsters

We’ll drive by and tag graffiti with paint guns

We’ll launch missiles that’ll rip through your frame

And cause the FBI to form a search party for your fuckin' brains

Stop frontin' bro-ham

Or I’ll stick a carrot in your nose like motherfuckin' snowman