"Guillotine" lyrics

"Guillotine"

Uh, yeah
Music park
Let's get it
Yo

Stop playin', y'all know I murder these bars
Lyin' when you stand 'round here, purgery charge
They sleepin' on me, king, don't really care what it's called
When he woke up with the ring to see a courtesy call
Don't know who got a condom, but this certainly raw
And I ain't got a problem, but I'm certainly yours
See, I ain't perfect, but I am perfectly flawed
And, boy, do I deliver, this some maternity boy
Who next, baby? Either pick the ball or the soil
When your chick international, I just call her a broad
I rap in all capitals, more than half of these rappers do
If you a half-rapper, then you the rapper I'm rappin' to
Wrappin' you like package, if you ain't packin' they packin' you
It just so happens you'll be the rapper in Habit 2
Son, I'm still Park Hill labral
Whoever stole my pack of nine-one, I'm still mad at you

Uh, but am I preaching to the choir?
Then blow a chem cloud like you speaking to the sky
Hold it like a grudge 'til you're bleeding from the eye
Wings up, move forever, I believe that I can fly

From the top, my dogs put your dogs underground
Catch a round or catch a straight dog from the pound
If this is Game Of Thrones, I ain't far from the crown
And if this it, a lot of y'all ain't far from a clown
I fall off, it's nothing, I ain't far from the ground
Rappers offer sixteens and that ain't far from the Browns
Then lay your game, your whole squad out of bounds
I'm too dirty to be washed up, but y'all watered down
I don't floss much, no, but I can C-E-O
So I bossed up, ayy, buck fifty is the cost
Cut A1 with the sauce up in beef
Ever since I gave the pork up, let's eat
Put the medal to your teeth
Y'all done forked up, nice, another one to chalk up
New York up, Christ, no, y'all don't want to cross us
Be cautious because this is torture, extortion
Your inscorture, but rappers tryna tell me if it taught ya
Heh, Meth get ugly, but he gorgeous
And he get to this money, Daddy Warbucks
Tell your smut date over, pull the drugs up
Cigar gut, it's up all in the club, putting squad up

Uh, but am I preaching to the choir?
Then blow a chem cloud like you speaking to the sky
Hold it like a grudge 'til you're bleeding from the eye
Wings up, move forever, I believe that I can fly


Writer(s): Clifford M. Smith, Anthony Jarrod Messado, Rockwilder
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