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Cordae & Jack Harlow. |
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(Killer) Yeah |
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I'm a (Boy's crazy), I'm a cold blooded (Killer) |
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Made all this money from doin' this (Yeah, look) |
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d.a. got that dope |
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Now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty |
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Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money |
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Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny |
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Earn it just to burn it, swag drip— |
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I used to rock a toboggan |
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Headphones around my neck, tryna be like Shady |
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Now the phone that's in my pocket seem to keep vibratin' |
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I got all these Rodney Bennett's tryna be my baby |
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Tryna fiancé me, I take the steering wheel and drive them girls beyond crazy (Crazy) |
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I'm on a song with my idol |
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I'm a cold blooded version of the song title |
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I put these diamonds in the ring like they was Shawn Michaels |
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I can't put the Louis V inside the wash cycle |
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I take this shit to the cleaners |
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'Bout to cop me a Beamer, I got a special demeanor |
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She was mine when I seen her, I'm gettin' meaner and meaner |
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Called the front desk and asked for a steamer |
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I'm a bitch bagger, not a Twitch streamer |
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I'm eatin' pizza in Little Italy, damn, I used to hit Caesars |
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She 'bout to finish, but wait a minute, it gets deeper |
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Same kid just a bit sleeker |
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Now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty |
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Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money |
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Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny |
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Earn it just to burn it (Listen, uh) |
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They say my killin's horrendous, "How he still in the business?" |
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Rich as hell and it's feelin' tremendous |
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Ma dukes chillin' in Venice, compliments of her eldest, the cynic |
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Give hell with these writtens, this shit only propel my ascension |
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I held my position in any situation that's needed |
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This year I'm shittin' on niggas for the way we was treated |
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I see the impact of all my creations increasin' |
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My step in time with these Pantheons, it was all was divine |
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I'm in this moment of my life where shit is fallin' in line |
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And lookin' back, I swear to god, you'd think it all was designed |
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A true movie script, I can't really ever f*ck no groupie bitch |
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All she got is diamonds on her mind on some Uzi shit |
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A whole generation of geniuses I'm influencin' |
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I only hang with niggas who I'm congruent with |
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I manifest nothing less than the best outcome |
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Just watch my moves with this next album, nigga |
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Now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty |
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Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money |
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Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny |
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Earn it just to burn it, swag drippin' from me |
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My sentences are harsh, every single's bar's like a verdict |
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I say it with conviction, but this time you're not gonna serve it |
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But as soon as I read it, you know that you're about to get murdered |
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When I capital punish then put you in a box like a juror |
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If there's a rapper I haven't ate (Where?) |
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We ain't battled, either that or they won't collaborate |
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'Cause pad or paper freestyle will settle that debate (Yup) |
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I call it guillotine style 'cause even off the head, I decapitate |
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Yeah, bitch, I go harder than Carter III (What?) |
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But I think your thottie just thought of me |
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She got a body and bottom like Cardi B |
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And she be stalking me like I was broccoli |
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I'm getting brain now like a lobotomy |
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You probably thinkin' you had that shit in the bag like it's a colostomy |
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It's a red alert, you better skrrt or try to get on my level first |
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Bitch, I'd had to shovel dirt and dig a hole to get on yours |
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You bum-bum, look at your broke ass (Yeah) |
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It's why your a bum-bum (Why?) 'cause your shit is so ass (Yeah) |
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Syllable gun-guns, spits and goes "Hadoo" |
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Only L that I ever took is when I lost Proof (Yeah) |
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Only time that I ever got served was that lawsuit when Ma sued (What?) |
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But, bitch, get out of pocket and I might accost you |
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Homicides up the wazoo |
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Chain garden probably got more body-ody-odys than John do (John do) |
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Just called Snoop and I talked to him, we all cool |
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Dre, me and the Dogg good, Doc, we got you |
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Got a castle with a solid gold floor |
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No I don't, I don't even got a boat nor |
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Do I got a chauffeur, but a lot to show for |
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You don't wanna f*ck around and start no war |
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Twenty more years, I could probably go for |
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Just like your lip and you got a cold sore |
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My shit is like motherf*ckin' herpe |
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You ain't ever gonna say I don't got it no more (Bitch) |
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Literally it's stupidity, you kiddin' me? |
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Dying laughing is the only way you're killing me |
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I'm getting rid of ya, get clapped like chlamydia |
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The wittiest, bitch, I'll snap like a tibia |
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You wanna get silly with the bars? I'm frivolous |
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But I'm as gritty and litty as my city is |
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East side 'til I die, bitch, I will rep 'til the end like a chameleon |
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A killer instinct with the pen's ink and they're in sync like a faucet |
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How the f*ck do I even think of this ridic*lous shit? |
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I'm a quarter of a century deep and I can't be beat (Nah) |
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'Til the day me and the grim reap meet, I'm ten toes down 'til I'm six feet deep |
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Windows down in the Benz E jeep hollerin' at a bimbo, beep-beep-beep |
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She said she f*cks with (?) |
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I can see why you envy me, you get no ass like an empty seat |
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So this shit comes with a warning for all you punks and corny |
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Little f*cks, I woke up on my f*ck shit this morning |
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Now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty |
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Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money |
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Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny |
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Earn it just to burn it, swag drippin' from me |
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Yeah, I'm a (Killer) |
Yeah, I'm a what, I'm a cold blooded (Killer)
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Eminem
 Eminem)
