Kill Kill Kill

IKonz

[Intro: Bishop talking]
Let me see what I need, ahh, I need my chainsaw, ahh, my AK-47, my rocket launchers, some grenades...and my flame thrower. Yeah

[Verse One: Bishop Lamont]
Ohhh
Oh shit, it's time to ill
MC's it ain't safe, e'rybody gettin' killed
Your mammy (boom), your daddy (boom, boom)
Gram Gram (boom) and your pappy (boom)
And them little ugly ass, your ashy ass gets black they are so nappy
No self hatred, I'm no racist, I hate everybody
Kill your cat, kill your dog and the parakeet bitch
Shoot your fish tank up like "Fuck them goldfish"
M-m-m-madness and mayhem, P.M. to the A.M
Stomp like the collector got a collection
Of decomposing possessions
Talent scout I'm out to find new specimens
May I make a small suggestion?
Rappers, stop lyin' through the speakers
Cause I see directly through you like Jeepers Creepers
Creepy, got a dumb flow
Threatening me?
I shit on all you, I needs lots of T.P. for my bunghole
I'm not high, I'm not high, check my eyes
I swear
I'm just lyrically retarded and not all really there
I'm a beast bitch, I'll bully money from a grizzly bear
As if a bear had money and went to school
But in your dreams you can't win, I'm a fuckin' nightmare
Tommy Ray Glatman, dream assassin, Dreamscape
You don't know what I'm talkin' 'bout? Google it, I'll wait

[Hook: Bishop Lamont]
Everybody in this bitch gon' get gunned down
Boom, boom, boom, you don't wanna hear that sound
I'm goin' insane, hearin' voices in my brain
They keep on tellin' me to do some really fucked up things
This can't be real, I'm really feelin' fuckin' ill
They keep on sayin' "Everybody gettin' killed"
They keep on tellin' me "Everybody gettin' killed"
I hear 'em whisperin' "Everybody gettin' killed"
Over and over "Everybody gettin' killed"

[Verse Two: Mad Child
Yo, yo
I'm a white Beast boy like Adam Horovitz
Stab you in the orifice, I'm darker than a horror flick
(Boom)
I put a bullet in your skull to make a peep hole
Then lean your head against a tube so I can watch the Creep Show
I'm a freak though
Graphic rap-a-holic
Splatter all your blood around the room like I was Jackson Pollock
I'm all alone, I'll crack your collarbone and haul it home
And spread your guts around the wall and write a diabolic poem
Like Michael Meyers with a knife cause I'm a psycho killer
Listening to Michael Jackson Thriller, I'm a hyper villain
I'll smash your fuckin' skull and then say "nighty night"
Tackle rappers wearing tighty whites like it was Friday Night Lights
Pop a vitamin then squat like Spiderman
Then take a fuckin' shit on all you rappers for entitlement
Sneak into your studio then stab you till your speaker's red
Then take your Jordan 3's cause I'm a klepto and a sneaker head

Gimmie your shoes
Yeah, these are gonna fit

[Hook]

[Verse Three: JD Era]
Go look up 'psychopath' then find me in the dictionary
Grinnin' ear to ear, in prison gear, I hope you bitches ready
I fuck a nun missionary, get it? Missionary
Got a lot of friends but momma thinks they're all imaginary
And they keep tellin' me to "kill, kill, kill"
Murder, murder, roll a blunt and pop a pill, pill, pill
And you won't, but I will
For a crisp dollar bill
Shove your head so far up your ass you be talkin' shit at every meal
I'm me
I'm meat with cheese and some Molly powder in private
Discussionals blowin' up on which rappers outta be silent
I get so fly the stewardess can't close her eyelids
My Taliban homie thinks that I should be a pilot
I don't know, yes I'm the bomb
Tick, tick, hide your child
I'm happy killing you at work
We call that service with a smile
Just took some 'shrooms I guess I had the bad pile
Burn a cross in front of your yard and blame that shit on Mad Child