Slang Killaz Lyrics

Slang Killaz lyrics

f/ Islord, P.R. Terrorist







[singer]



Hmm.. oooh.. ooh..



Killa Beez.. Killarmy..







[9th Prince]



Eh-yo



A Soviet deep in Paris, Playboy rabbits want carrots



Luxury marriage, 9th ain't havin it



I keep the forty-five automatic like Mathematics



Start terminatin savages, I'm raw like 'caine to easy addicts



Street tactics, million dollar caskets



On biblical war, perform Michael Jackson Thriller but way iller



A slave killer, protected by Shaolin and Brooklyn Zu guerillas



Under my pillow, I sleep with grenades, untraceable heaters



Lay deeper than scientific readers



My cipher sounds will ding pound, I blast you on ya nightgown



Kidnap ya child, might give him to the crowd



On my way Uptown in my '95 Millenium



Seen Killa Sin and 'em, let niggas sound feminine



Remember 9th Prince ill forever, I get up in 'em



My style is like runnin' up in small town banks



Bulletproof tanks, never bust blanks



Always suffer with shank







[singer]



Killa Beez.. we will sting you..



Killa Beez.. Killarmy..







[Islord - over singer]



Aiyo aiyo once again



We stingin' y'all mothafuckas cuz I don't give a flyin' fuck



About none of y'all niggas out here



Cuz if you ain't none of my mothafuckin' Killarmy comrades



Fuck y'all!







Yo, check the topic to this essay



It's murder in the first, ese?



As I bust a slug through yo' fragile statue



And that's actual, precise timed and on point like a marksman



Four-four, rubber grip, Summer of Sam specialist, so take this



Four-hunded grain thought that'll pierce ya cranium



From the rear, I don't give a fuck, this is my year



I'm takin this rap shit back from the wack



Fuck who you are kid, fuck where you representin at



Cuz basically my mentality is on some '93 shit



When you had to Protect Ya Neck in this shit



To be an MC, now it's al about the tight clothes



Crossed over flows, platinum jewelery to get a plaque in the industry



But never the I-S-L-to the O-R-D



I keep my shit muddy like my Timbs be, you fake ass MC's







[singer]



Killa Beez.. Killarmy..



Killa Beez.. we will sting you..







[P.R. Terrorist]



Aiyo Terrorist



I'm on the block like any man



The difference between me and you is I understand



You askin' questions, "What's that shit up in my hand?"



Answer your questions, I fire that shit up in ya pan



Bitch nigga, understand? I'm the P-R-T, era is this



His lyrics are unique and his vocals are crisp



Bang that shit in ya Jeeps or on ya block with the fifth



So front on his, kid, front on this



'Til I could let this shit that's in my hand light up my wrist



And let this shit descend in like E-V ya chest



I'm far from the best, I'm more like the worst you ever seen



Spit green phlegm from blood same color as my jeans



And my boots'll be brown, get up, the street's down



Let the beat hound cuz beef pound, 'round the block



This is hip-hop, niggas fucked around and went pop







[singer]



Killa Beez.. Killarmy.. (x3)



Killa Beez.. we will sting you..