Suicide Kings,Celph Titled,Apathy — Shotcallaz

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Yeah, we got some top shotta’s…some front line gunners in the house tonight.
Celph Titled: The Manager of Manslaughter, My brother Apathy, M
y peoples Joey Knuckles and King Cole. You’s didn’t know?
The Suicide Kingz bitch, anybody’s a target. Kill yourself, Fucker!

Since the day my father busted in my mother, I’ve hated competition
I cut the tails off the other sperm that were swimmin’
Nah, sinnin’ is my synonym, strippers that smell like cinnamon
Cinematography, graphic sodomy of these women
I’m spinnin’ out of control, fuck a positive image
I’m slicker than oil spillage in an Alaskan village
I murder and pillage, I pilfer, impressive to villains
I’m chillin’ in traffickin’ pills and packages to children
A savage guerrilla, the shade of vanilla, the nature of killers
Escaped from the cage in a cape to conceal us
I disappear in the air, leaving this mystical smoke
I’m a sorcerer, rapped in a magic, invisible cloak
Fuck your pitiful quotes, I’ll stick a drill in your throat
Like it’s a quill in an ink well for these verses I wrote
I write curses in cursive, I’m the worst of the worstest
Crush your planet in my palm and leave you peons Earthless

Yeah, stick a motherfuckin’ spike through ya skull. Leave you lookin’ like a unicorn skeleton…

Yeah, that’s what’s good

I’m Slick Rick with a pimp limp and an ice pick
Suicide Kings crush your head in a vice grip
We might flip, beat you black and blue with a nightstick
Quicker than a dynamite stick with a short wick
You’re not Mike Vick with pit bulls and full clips
Gayer than a rainbow faggot suckin’ his own dick
I let the truth slip, cause I don’t give two shits
Jackin’ any grip when we tryna see blue chips
To battle is useless, attack is ruthless
Your bitch got more semen in her than cruise ships
I’m Beast Man, holdin’ down the castle of Grayskull
We brawl with your team like american baseball
It’s cannibal rap, with a scalpel that’l take your face off
Disconnect your bones with high-powered chainsaws
I’m gettin’ swervy in a two-toned Mercury
When I’m smokin’ cocaine with the ghost of Brittany Murphy

A word to the wise, don’t you ever get me mad
Cause I’m launchin’ scud missiles directly from my chimney shaft
Other than that, I ain’t holdin’ back
I’m blowin’ stacks, collectin’ gats with sniper scopes and shoulder straps
That’ll rip through your Ryan Seacrest sequin vest
And I’m just gettin’ my feet wet
I’m a fan of damagin’
And makin’ you the next XXL milk carton candidate
You’s a roller derby bitch ass
Serve a motherfuckin’ dish in kick ass
And watch you skate fast through plate glass
You don’t reach the regions that my army spins
We top of the line, y’all computin’ with Atari ram
Y’all wanna live life as queens? Well I’m with the Suicide Kings
Hardcore ride or die team
I ain’t cleanin’ my kitchen, if I’m liftin’ a burner
My options, my dick or my gun, into a bitch’s lips insert it