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lirik lagu qayin rohle - seven blows for every one

ski mask the color of pipe smoke
this sh~t designer~threaded
hollow tips look like they spiral~sketched it
ski mask the color of pipe smoke
this sh~t designer~threaded
hollow tips look like they spiral~sketched it

new wrist
the bezel pregnant
told ‘em hold the luggage
i don’t check bags—unless the metal’s present
brick odor left a scent trail
that’s pheromone money
i made a fifty off the books
like a parable summary
told ‘em keep the change
my shorty clutch a pair of chrome dummies
this four~five’ll shut his jaw
like a baritone humming
pulled the wraith up
let the horses breathe
pistol handle forged in portuguese
still pushin’ p’s but ain’t endorse the theme
the paper clean
but money dirty as a ortho sleeve
let the suppressor kiss his cheekbone
he a mistress now
coppin’ whole estates
told my lawyer ‘get the district down’
i ain’t sign no contracts
‘less the digits round
your shooter on a budget
he got fifty rounds in a cricket now
i left the stove off
but the dope still bubble up
i left the door cracked
but the scope still cover up
if you don’t know math
you don’t hustle much
broke motherf~ckers talk in fractions
i just double up
spent a brick just to furnish the den
if the paper touch the table
then the sermon commence
heard they talkin’ bodies
but they version pretend
i seen more sh~lls than a merchant marine
serviceman’s tent
cigarette ash on the peacoat
knife scars on the sleeve cuffs
body language switch when the piece tuck
copped a brick
flipped it, re~upped
gave the plug a pound
then spun off like a priest’s tux
the mink dragon~blood red
it look like folklore
might shoot the dice
might up the price
might up the .44
might press a b~tton
make his price drop like a nord board
no forensics
case cold as russian folklore
k!ller smile
feds tappin’ through a boom mic
i done seen more funerals than moonlight
sh~t bag his stomach
now his food light
i had to stash a whole ‘nother hundred in a tube light
duffle bag full of carbine clips
machine oil on my fingertips, can’t hardly grip
copped a mink that match the carbon tint
i make a call, they drag the body out like spartans did
i don’t know his name
i just wire hitmen through the bank app
i just know the chopper kick like it’s trained out in bangkok
if the opps got a shooter
then his aim bad
‘cause i been outside with the sig
like i hate tags
knew the grams was raw
soon as i palmed the scent
you seen your plug once
i put my arm in it
heard your shooter missin’
they just found his limbs
i sent a text
said ‘final offer’—that was bargaining
shorty push the stick
like a rickshaw, she lift off
fur draggin’ through the dirt
i’m walkin’ like a sick dog
feds wiretappin’, had to switch cars
i been talkin’ white out the hood like a crip bar
red dot spin his scalp
left his temple like a mosque floor
brought a russian arm
this ain’t a prop store
caught his ass lackin’
left him rotten in the top drawer
the barrel smoke
like old jazz club popcorn
name on the contract
payment hit in offshore
told ‘em load the crates up
make it look like soft p~rn
told the plug ‘if it ain’t fishscale
that’s the wrong sort’
all white bricks
like an old~school golf course
ski mask the color of pipe smoke
this sh~t designer~threaded
ski mask the
ski mask the

left the carbon trace on vellum
i don’t write, i do inscriptions
sign the contract in his blood
initials carved like new additions
heard his tour was lookin’ short
i sent a wreath and two musicians
said he next up in the rankings
i just chiseled through his ribbons
gloves on when i lift the glass
told ‘em chill, this ain’t a toast—
they throw subs, i throw the boat
let the ‘rari hug the coast
if i ever do the post
i leave the message in a quote
cut the check and told ‘em ghost it
like the 40 on the loaf

ski
sk~

- lirik lagu qayin rohle

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