"San La Muerte" lyrics

Yeah
My mic sound good?
Yeah (rata-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta)
One-two, one-two
Yeah (Raise the gates)
Look. Yeah. (rata-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta)
Listen
Yeah

It's node sub-optimal, so watch it when the Ruger spit
Record the homicide so I can watch how many views it get
Fuck the world, fuck 'em all, I'm tired of this music shit
The goombah gon' move regardless of who producing it
You dumb if you don't think that it's a shot gon' fly
I will cross your fucking T's and I will dot that eye
I will pop that nine, I will tighten the grip
You a sucka, you the type to take advice from a bitch
He defied God so he had to get his name cursed
Armed to the teeth, carry metal like a change purse
Make a list of raw motherfuckers, put my name first
Every single line is by design to make your brain burst
High like a motherfucker, I ain't hit the ground yet
Dumpin' till the whole clip empty like a sound check
Twenty plus years, Ahki, I ain't lost a round yet
Kemetic Orthodoxy where the ritual was founded

Nothing ever is enough, everybody getting touched
Motherfuckers is running up on me
The drama don't stop, get your whole block shot
All these shooters is running up on me
I got a big street sweeper, I'm the hood Grim Reaper
Motherfuckers is dying around me
My trigger finger stay itching, we cooking in the kitchen
I ain't fucking with nobody but me

So come hell or high water I'mma watch for the drop
I make this graveyard crowded like a popular spot
Nowadays it's kinda hard to tell a cop from a ahk
I'mma aim the chopper either way and pop who I pop
Listen, he a traitor so he left for the hills
Screaming high-pitched, crying like he Stephanie Mills
Ain't no iller voice in this shit
Die now or die later, that's the choices you get
It's moist and it's wet, living here is literally hell
Bodies stacking when I crack 'em like the Liberty Bell
This dummy broke, looking at the bottom of the pint
I'm coming with the heater like the bottom of the ninth
That's Allah and that's my life, wanna see me it's nothing
Just know that either way with me it's gonna be a concussion
Body bags everywhere, machetes here to chop 'em up
Put his body on ice and slap him like a hockey puck

Nothing ever is enough, everybody getting touched
Motherfuckers is running up on me
The drama don't stop, get your whole block shot
All these shooters is running up on me
I got a big street sweeper, I'm the hood Grim Reaper
Motherfuckers is dying around me
My trigger finger stay itching, we cooking in the kitchen
I ain't fucking with nobody but me