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Moments in Grace - Текст песни Slang Killaz
[singer]
 Hmm.. oooh.. ooh..
 Killa Beez.. Killarmy..
 [9th Prince]
 Eh-yo
 A Soviet deep in Paris, Playboy rabbits want carrots
 Luxury marriage, 9th ain't havin it
 I keep the forty-five automatic like Mathematics
 Start terminatin savages, I'm raw like 'caine to easy addicts
 Street tactics, million dollar caskets
 On biblical war, perform Michael Jackson Thriller but way iller
 A slave killer, protected by Shaolin and Brooklyn Zu guerillas
 Under my pillow, I sleep with grenades, untraceable heaters
 Lay deeper than scientific readers
 My cipher sounds will ding pound, I blast you on ya nightgown
 Kidnap ya child, might give him to the crowd
 On my way Uptown in my '95 Millenium
 Seen Killa Sin and 'em, let niggas sound feminine
 Remember 9th Prince ill forever, I get up in 'em
 My style is like runnin' up in small town banks
 Bulletproof tanks, never bust blanks
 Always suffer with shank
 [singer]
 Killa Beez.. we will sting you..
 Killa Beez.. Killarmy..
 [Islord - over singer]
 Aiyo aiyo once again
 We stingin' y'all mothafuckas cuz I don't give a flyin' fuck
 About none of y'all niggas out here
 Cuz if you ain't none of my mothafuckin' Killarmy comrades
 Fuck y'all!
 Yo, check the topic to this essay
 It's murder in the first, ese?
 As I bust a slug through yo' fragile statueMoments in Grace - Slang Killaz - http://ru.motolyrics.com/moments-in-grace/slang-killaz-lyrics.html
 And that's actual, precise timed and on point like a marksman
 Four-four, rubber grip, Summer of Sam specialist, so take this
 Four-hunded grain thought that'll pierce ya cranium
 From the rear, I don't give a fuck, this is my year
 I'm takin this rap shit back from the wack
 Fuck who you are kid, fuck where you representin at
 Cuz basically my mentality is on some '93 shit
 When you had to Protect Ya Neck in this shit
 To be an MC, now it's al about the tight clothes
 Crossed over flows, platinum jewelery to get a plaque in the industry
 But never the I-S-L-to the O-R-D
 I keep my shit muddy like my Timbs be, you fake ass MC's
 [singer]
 Killa Beez.. Killarmy..
 Killa Beez.. we will sting you..
 [P.R. Terrorist]
 Aiyo Terrorist
 I'm on the block like any man
 The difference between me and you is I understand
 You askin' questions, "What's that shit up in my hand?"
 Answer your questions, I fire that shit up in ya pan
 Bitch nigga, understand? I'm the P-R-T, era is this
 His lyrics are unique and his vocals are crisp
 Bang that shit in ya Jeeps or on ya block with the fifth
 So front on his, kid, front on this
 'Til I could let this shit that's in my hand light up my wrist
 And let this shit descend in like E-V ya chest
 I'm far from the best, I'm more like the worst you ever seen
 Spit green phlegm from blood same color as my jeans
 And my boots'll be brown, get up, the street's down
 Let the beat hound cuz beef pound, 'round the block
 This is hip-hop, niggas fucked around and went pop
 [singer]
 Killa Beez.. Killarmy.. (x3)
 Killa Beez.. we will sting you..










