Kool Moe Dee

Kool Moe Dee - Death Blow songtekst

Je score:
To the  to the  to the
 Times up punk
 yea yea Time to settle the score
 To the break of dawn  another dumb move
 Ha  ha  ha this time it's over boy
 This is me and you  head to head  let's go

 Here we go  beat down round 2
 Heads up punk 'cause it all comes down to
 Me and you  face to face  head to head
 Mic to mic  I like the weak shit you said
 To the break of dawn  beats nitro
 Lyrics weak, say goodnight 'cho
 Star Trek shades, man cut the joke
 Let's get serious and go for broke
 You still got a lock on my jock like a pitbull
 Victor before you pull it off you thought Mr. Pitiful
 Here's some mouthwash, g
 Your mouth smells like my jockstrap, C-
 A-U-S-E, you're rhyme didn't mean
 ?D-O-D-D?, junior Moe Dee
 Stop biting, chewing, swallowing
 Who in the hell told you that you could do what you were doing
 Raise up son, I need jock relief
 Here's a toothpick, now get my jock out your teeth
 You swallow it, yea, finish, burp
 Now let a real man go to work
 'Cause I'm a whip you like your daddy, beat ya like a baby
 Sick ya like a dog, dropping lyrics wit rabies
 Cut ya like a knife 'cause you're nuthin but hype
 You slice and dice and ice twice for life
 I'm a treat ya like a hooker punk, change your clothes
 Put you on the streets wit ya jingling hoes
 Keep talking about me and I'll keep pimping
 Just bring me that money and take this last whipping
 How can one man be so dumb
 You're trying to come off and don't know how to come
 You're young and dumb and quick at the tongue
 You high strung bum come and get done
 I'll do you wit a death blow

 (Chorus)
 Kill 'em kill 'em
 I'll hit ya wit a death blow

 My lyrical beatdown will leave ya in a coma
 'Cause you can't hang without a high school diploma
 Your brain of fatigue, you're out of your league
 You're running out of gas and you're tank is on E
 Somebody buy him a heart 'cause he's petro
 Take you're whipping like a man brother let go
 No apologies, tears of violence
 Get your black suits 'cause I ain't smiling
 I'm shooting the gift of gab, brother you're ripped in half
 Soon as the mic is past, you won't live to laugh
 If there's laughter, I'll get the last one
 You loafed on the lyrics and you caught a bad one
 So who's got no style, look at your profile
 You can't dance, can't dress and you're so foul
 Still wearing played out 4 finger rings
 Played out fat gold chains and things
 You changed your look now change your gameplan
 Trying to dress but you still wear name brand
 Brother, you look crazy weak
 And it gets worse when we hear you speak
 So you ain't got a chance in hell
 You'll be known as the late LL
 The man who lost one, one too often
 Came wit a soft one and went to his coffin
 A close casket they won't show ya
 When I finish, you're mama won't know ya
 'Cause I'm a rip you limb from limb
 You tombstone read he had no win
 So RIP, Rest in peace, rip 'em
 D.I.D., dead indeed, did 'em
 A H-I-T, hitman, so whatcha hit 'em wit
 A rhyme silencer, I hit 'em wit a death blow

 Chorus

 If mama said knock me out, come do it
 You can't win and that (record scratch) knew it
 I'm a send you home in a body bag
 Wit the mic in your throat and a jock for a gag
 You're out of here, over, finished, all in
 And Marly marl can't save you from fallin
 'Cause as soon as you came back what did you do
 To the break of dawn, another dumb move
 You can't go hard, you're just so-so Todd
 I'm that type of guy, oh my God
 It's gets no rougher comes no weaker
 marly hooked the beats so now you need a
 Writer to bring you back from hell
 Because I'm a rock up L
 Low life loser, life like luna
 Lafidasical, lispless luna
 Tic liver lifeless, living likeness
 Lusting longing lyrics like this
 Little league, lard larsonist liar
 Label ledger, left the leper liar
 Bull, lull, lateral learning
 Laps language latent lurking
 Language, language, local logo
 Light laboring, limited local
 Now LL's a laughing stock
 'Cause I bit that ass to the last stop
 I watched you fall like Hitler fell
 And now you're down to a broken L
 You're records ain't hot and you're shows don't sell
 Yo, tell 'em how you fell L, hard as hell
 You came back and you thought you had me
 But think about it, whos' your daddy

 Kill 'em... Big daddy, I don't want none...
 I did 'em wit a death blow
 To the break of dawn
 To the, to the, to the, get him out of here

 (Kool Moe Dee Talks
Vind dit lied op:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Auteur: Moe Dewese

Componist: ?

Publisher: Zomba Recording Corporation

Details:

Uitgegeven in: 1991

Taal: Engels

Komt voor op: Funke Funke Wisdom (1991)

Deel je mening

Dit formulier wordt beschermd door reCAPTCHA en de Google Privacy Policy en Servicevoorwaarden zijn daarbij van toepassing.

0 Reacties gevonden