lirik lagu coydog - headshots
[hook]
eyes on the motherf-cking prize, ho
i fire headshots, leave minds blown
eyes on the motherf-cking prize, ho
i fire headshots, leave minds blown
eyes on the motherf-cking prize, ho
i fire headshots
[verse 1]
which wicked wiccan witch could cast magic like this kid?
a sacrilegious musician, hit ’em with savage new rhythms
hey, listen: my brain’s twisted, i slay christians, and make schisms
mortals: sit and listen while i spit distorted wisdom
my head is possessed, please perform an exorcism
i’m cl-ssless, ’bout as nasty as corpses s-xing children
i’ll slip tabs in my hatch, then catch and pork you, dead or living
reckless villain; sorta psycho, snorting foreign white c0ke
i’m quite dope, i start spitting, it spark nuclear fission
and crack atoms in half, my raps are a tad cr-ss
in fact i cuss bunches cause sl-ts love it
maim your face with uppercut hits
f-ck it, i’m the king, now bow down like you’re about to suck d-ck
my flow erupts, we smoking on them soda blunts
sipping gin, committing tipsy sins until a coma come
my swagger’s past sick, terminal hospice sh-t
so learn you ain’t stopping this: i’m your personal monster, b-tch
[hook]
eyes on the motherf-cking prize, ho
i fire headshots, leave minds blown
eyes on the motherf-cking prize, ho
i fire headshots
[verse 2]
since my fertile sack dropped, i’ve had my verbal gat c-cked
i make hoes and dames go insane without bath salts
half ‘pac, half doc, heart harder than asphalt
bars dark as the bat-suit; i rap smooth and cap cops
my rancid stanzas causing scandals like the black sox
and i’m a bit p-ssed, getting ticked from this whack talk
who said these rich d-cks are sick because they stack guap?
these p-n-ses are g*niuses cause they ain’t ever had lots?
f-ck that, the real talent’s never even noticed
i’m done with these greasy, scheming creeps of showbiz
once, i nearly quit rap: you see, i deemed it hopeless
but i let my inner demon free, and that beast, he wrote this
i let him out, now i ain’t scared to sock a stupid bore
cause i’m a bad apple, rotten to the core
i’m a monster, ’bout to conquer all these music stores
hoochie wh0r-, i been grinding since your mom was doing p-rn
[hook]
[verse 3]
i’m in my cr-ppy pad, chilling; blasting madvillain
we’re a cold pack, our bowls full of hash and our hats tilted
we’ll pillage the rap village, a crew of ruthless looters that’s
crude and lewder than hooter’s, i’mma build my stacks k!lling
these bitter newbie spitters that’s stupid as doobie hitters
i’m moody, and about as regular as goofy kickers
superhuman trickster, rhymes soaked in cyanide
my lion pride overqualified to blow your tiny minds
i monger the apocalypse while on some piff & klonopin
look, you don’t wanna get my squadron p-ssed – we’ll rock your sh-t
i’m monstrous, my nifty witticisms nix the critics’ hate
never mitigate, instead i tend to cause problems, b-tch
gotham to metropolis, no one’s half as wrathful
tokes and tabs and capsules, my flow is brash, yet tactful
we hotbox and give a sh-t about the cops
you could call us missionaries, our position is the top
[hook]
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