lirik lagu kill bill: the rapper – orange slices
[verse 1: k!ll bill]
ayo you finna get fixed in this b-tch
ain’t really been giving a sh-t
more piff than a whip full of bricks
the pivot, i live for this sh-t
mixed with a fl!ck of the bic
picture the pixel a bit
split for the split second precision and dip in the whip
pimpin’ get l!cked by the b-tches dripping the drip, and i’m sick
you living a fictional fl!ck
i’m gripping the spliff and then split
clown-like methods, i’m down-right infection
sound biters pound? i break ’em down like tetris
the p-ssion of the christ
i’m b-tton-mashing looking nice
in nes with two blunts: it’s double dragon [dragging] for the night
overstate the understated
blowing grape and f-ckin’ jade
and every rapper’s trying to throw some hands and get a touch of greatness
kiss my f-cking -n-s. all around the hole and sh-t
b-tches be like “holy sh-t! who’s that who you’re rolling with?”
i’m flowing til it’s broken
you can quote the bloke with tokens
ain’t no games here, neither. b-tch i’m d-mn near choking
one blunt? roll it
two blunts? smoking
three blunts? toking to the head; my mind’s open
pine smoking. why no one got a drink in their hands?
is it ’cause i’m by myself with six bullets in the cham-
-ber? burr. swag-stunting 101 with them
and ooh, is they with you? i’d love to one-on-one with them
pimp it’s kb. tell them b-tches lay me
chain got so many rocks, you’d think i lived with jay-z
sippin’ az iced-tea with the lemon in
another word for dope? k!ll bill be the synonym
f-cking with them sentences. structure and usages
triple g’s be the gang, boy i’m f-cking with hooligans
boy, i be rooted, and i’m so rude with the ruger
and ne’er a b-tch’ll walk by without at least thinking of choosing him
a loser with loser-ish tendencies that just won the game
a couple block-huggers get me, but the rest don’t understand
not mainstream. just a little off-center
the way i make her skirt hike, i’d make a living off centers
i’m quarterbacking. in the back, i’m quarter-bagging
with a sack of yellow and green sh-t, you’d swear i was born a packer. wow
on fire like spontaneous combustion
y’all hating on me, cousin. boy, stop playing, b. i’m busting
bet i wet eyes. that youngin with the red eyes
collision with the beast i’m beating, crashing like i’m left-eye
rest in peace. i’ll f-cking take the rest and peace
and i’m gonna box ’em, leave ’em flotsam
watch them haters sweat, i’m keith
keith sweat. no singers here. authentic, yeah
what i make off little beats combined could eat your fiscal year
so confident. my self-esteem’s peaking
h-ll-bound rapper: boy, my welcome team’s demons
[interlude: k!ll bill talking]
i’m done!
[engineer talking]
wait, for real?
[k!ll bill talking]
n-no…no. one more. i got one more
[engineer talking]
that’s what i thought
[verse 2: k!ll bill]
i hit ’em with a little bit of venom in the middle
with the bars, so sick. f-ck bar-code sh-t
smoking up a little bit of sars, oh sh-t
with the marble kicks. stone feet on beat, b-tch
k!ll bill on the beat, still real in the streets
gangrene’s that clique fasho
still making this music. drug influenced
why this sh-t so cold?
i’m one-hundred percent not done with this sh-t
still bump in the whip. pump, pump, pumping your chicken
instru-flipping. i’m pimping it. never slipping, wow
eyes ripping out their sockets for profit
i’m putting on for ne’er image, like muhammad the prophet
outside the box, and i’m boxing, outfoxing the foxes
i’ma sw-ng down, candy paint
which i lane-switch on ’em
[outro: k!ll bill talking]
hey, have you guys ever heard the joke
where k!ll bill came on the mic
and he had so much f-cking swag that everyone died?
the end
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