Crooked I - Beautiful Murder (Prod. By King Dave) | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Crooked I
• Beautiful Murder (Prod. By King Dave)

[Verse 1]
It's a beautiful murder, go on and let the murder start
Lights out in the booth, you know that I prefer the dark
Oh, you a soldier? Then you about to earn the Purple Heart
Hit you with a couple of slugs, call it a work of art
Beautiful murder - I'm killin' you trap rappers and you backpackers
It's a funeral, you know what I do to whack rappers
And you house niggas, comin' around me tryin' to act black
Well, be who you are, a black cracker
It's ironic 'cause some of my niggas is white, we niggas for life
Nigga we icons - bigger than life, nigga, we pipe bombs
Blowin' up whoever pick up the mic
Lettin' that hot fire kiss 'em goodnight, nigga, I'm Dylan
Beautiful murder - I'm usin' the words to abuse 'em and serve 'em
It's a fusion, a musical merger...
Bruise 'em and hurt 'em, confuse 'em, think I'm usin' a burner
The music is shootin' your sternum, that's confusin' 'em further
Accuse me of murder, I'm guilty as charged because I play hard
Walk in your label and hit your A&R with the AR
Fifteen split spleens, that's for pissin' on lyricism
That's for pissin' on big dreams
Why am I so angry with it?
You don't know shit about rap, you niggas can't be critics
9 millimeter paintbrush your brains then get it
Blow a portrait on the wall, look like Banksy did it
Beautiful murder - chop a rapper's wig in the booth
You pull up missin' your roof, but I ain't mention the Coupe
I mean your head blown off, body missin' it's roof
I'm the illest nigga, this is the proof
Shit on your group like a pitcher with diarrhea
They twitchin' when I appear, in fear that I'm itchin' to fire
If he say he didn't get his style from me
He's a son of a bitch and a liar
'Cause he know this nigga's the pioneer
Beautiful murder - this shit is so melodic
The kinda shit that you listen to while you hittin' on some chronic
And talkin' Detox, I'm still mad about me not gettin' on the Chronic
I guess niggas they didn't know that I'm it (I'm the best)
The best on the coast for years
Even though y'all niggas closed your ears, I'm still here, persevere
The industry made ghost to most my peers
While I fly over the coast in Lears
Toast and cheers, but fuck celebrations, I sell abrasions, contusions
Transfusions needed, you're bloods oozin'
You're losin' your vital signs
Homicidal rhymes got my rivals dyin' by the time I spit my final line
It'll be beautiful, beautiful...
Like an Italian silk tie, but not from Barneys, they ain't suitable
For the Circle of Bosses, no squares in my office, not even a cubicle
I'm back killin' shit as usual, hope I ain't losin' you

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