lirik lagu kxllinme - scan // bleed // repeat
[verse 1]
i’m not your normal rapper rappin’ ’bout pateks
i’m the type to send a fiend through your set with a tec
he ain’t flossin’ — he frothin’, still rockin’ a vest
from a boost he forgot, smellin’ like cigarettes and death
you flex on your story, i’m dodgin’ regret —
with a blade in my sock and a past in my breath
you braggin’ ’bout ice, i seen rocks in the flesh
not the kind that you flaunt — the kind k!llin’ the west
don’t compare me to rappers who lie for a look —
i been workin’ a register, not writin’ a hook
this ain’t drip, it’s bleach stains and nicotine t~~th
where the cameras don’t work but the pain still peeks
where a regular’ll rob you and call it respect
then ask for a discount like you ain’t seen sh~t
you rap like the trap — i rap like the curse
like a shift that won’t end and a fiend gettin’ worse
my aisle got blood, yours just got threads —
i don’t rap to impress — i rap for the dead
(yeat)
[hook]
flexin’ on the ’gram with a $40 dollar fade
while i’m duckin’ flashbacks in a register cage
you want likes — i want out. i want rest
this ain’t rap, it’s a graveyard desk
chain look heavy, but your soul look broke
i’ve seen fiends wear guilt like a mink and a coat
you post for applause, i post from the pit —
b~tch, i talk pain, you just cappin’ for cl!cks
[verse 2]
i see your gold chain — cool, now dodge this shift
you ever count bread while a fiend loads a clip?
you rap like the struggle, but your shoes too clean
i seen real pain p~ssin’ on a snapple machine
he said “my daughter used to love the peach tea,” then cried
while his p~ss hit the floor and his soul f~ckin’ died
i don’t do punchlines, i do panic attacks
barcode tatted on my lungs, don’t ask
i bag trauma with gum and a half~dead smile
while the light above fl!cker like it’s on trial
you flexin’ your label — b~tch, i flex rats
i seen a junkie eat crumbs off a mousetrap
you post a new chain, i post unpaid debt
with a fiend in the frame yellin’ “y’all ain’t left yet?!”
i got homies who steal from they kids to eati got ops who od’d in the manager’s seat
(where’s the narcan?)
keep your patek. keep your scammer sound
i’ll have your t~~th in the lotto tray —
smile for the cam now… and say “f~ck around.”
they say god don’t clock in — well i do
with a drawer full of sins and a smile that’s see~through
you ever hear your name whispered by a price gun?
you ever count change while your sanity run?
third shift switch with a twitch in my neck
fiend ask “you good?” — i said “nah, i’m next.”
i rhyme like the camera blinked morse code
like a soda machine’s about to explode
i’m an omen with coupons. i’m the glitch in the fuse
i’m the “void item” after bad news
i don’t got bars — i got sirens and tape
where your mixtape play in the hands of a wraith
i’m token if he never made it
em if he clocked out jaded
jid if he rapped from a panic room
gibbs if the plug had bad mushrooms
doom in the blender, still cookin’ a verse
i’m ye in the plate
dot in the leak
a patek in a p~wn shop with blood on its t~~th
i’m not your typical rap~cap deliverin’ visual
i’m visceral — fiends in a ritual, literal plague in the pitiful
i pivot through political cynical pit stops in a stolen vehicle
with a tec in the trunk and a prayer that’s minimal
you rap ’bout patek? b~tch, that’s puhthetic
pathetic —
i sold squares to squares in 7/11 ethic
i see demons dance on receipt paper rolls
where a fiend l!ck the floor for a blunt he stole
i been broken. i been bent. barcode soul, black mold in the vent
ptsd with a nicotine tint
i got trauma stuffed in a quart~sized bag
that the rookies confuse for a daily vent
you rock designer? i rock denial
i got punched over lotto, then served a smile
bet your stylist ain’t prepped you to stand this trial —
try rappin’ while a junkie cries, bleedin’ bile
[hook]
flexin’ on the ’gram with a $40 fade
while i’m duckin’ flashbacks in a register cage
you want likes — i want out. i want rest
this ain’t rap, it’s a graveyard desk
chain look heavy, but your soul look broke
i’ve seen fiends wear guilt like a mink and a coat
you post for applause, i post from the pit —
b~tch, i talk pain, you just cappin’ for cl!cks
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