lirik lagu killer mike – bang
[verse 1: k!ller mike]
yeah, motherf-cker i’m back from the dead
driving like a bat out of h-ll in a red
caprice cl-ssic, i spit acid
i don’t rap ringtones, i flow cl-ssics
i am dirty south hip-hop, what’s happening?
true sh-t talking, you ain’t into battling
you know i let the gun go like a gatling
favorite f-cking rappers i am embarr-ssing
god in the building, n-gga, ain’t no comparison
i don’t need swagger, i’m just arrogant
martin luther king drive made me this way
and i’ve been real g before atlanta went g-y
i’m down by law, what more can i say?
got a new ak, a new chevorlet
now which f-ck boy on the block wanna play?
i’m the best f-cking rapper you will find in the a
[hook]
grind time rap gang, they’re those guys
the truth and the whole truth, they don’t lie
they just do (do), do (do), they don’t try
and if anybody had a problem, they gonna ride
like bang, bang, bang, bang, bang bang
bang, bang, bang, bang, bang bang
[verse 2: k!ller mike]
sidekicks hate, they don’t wanna see me conquer
fired my boss, i don’t need no sponsor
truck jewelry got me looking tough like tonka
robber try to touch, lose his arm like in rwanda
in the concrete jungle, you prey or a hunter
when you k!ll a n-gga, they say his soul haunts ya
i’d rather sleep with a ghost than sleep with the fish
be judged by twelve, than carried by six
rapper, walk like a man, and ride a n-gga d-ck
forty-five got the king size jeans on sag
don’t make me put another skull & cross on the flag
grind time rap gang rep that flag
bang bang bang, the mack on your -ss
charging with the hemi going vroom vroom fast
head full of smoke every packet got cash
no love for the haters you can kiss my -ss
[hook]
[verse 3: k!ller mike]
leader of the grind time get money rap gang
dope–ss flows, lyrically, i’m cocaine
dope d-ck for the b-tches, dope lyrics for the dope mang
king kong is the beast man, no cage, no chain
top of the world, white girl in my left hand
some monkey–ss n-ggas better hear me, clearly
any mother f-cker ain’t rappin’ payin’ dearly
i’m talking weekly, monthly, yearly
until you punk motherf-ckers learn to fear me
i’m on some g sh-t; i’ve got a g card
i hit a n-gga head, leave his -ss a r-t-rd
i have his momma saying “no, take me lord!”
preacher in the pulpit, the choir sings
and on the first row a momma cries and leans
the young fella had to die, it’s a godd-mn shame
but it’s grind time rap gang, bang bang bang
[hook]
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