(Verse 1)
Rap Phil Spector
Always in black like funeral directors
Glenwood Projects rec-room, got twenty goons in butcher sweaters
I never shake
Potato on the barrel, it's safe
My kerosine best in Brooklyn, no jakes, snitches I hit your (weights?)
Stakes are high
Got no more time to be wasting up-state
Got nine inch twelve pellets with cartridge, black patridge
I leave you to fate
Bouqet of flowers shipped to your wake
Children Of Doom, we break that coke down with the paste
I'm too ferocious
Anybody seeing me senseless
Since park benches and dead lieutenants
Soldiers screaming for vengeance
I flood the hood with sedatives
Schemes and (?)
(Felonies?) in bagel stores, you can find me where the hemp is
Tims got blood on them from the park like Jenni Levin
Henny, DMT in the coup, Carca** and Def Leppard
(Hook)
Modern network
Drug farmers, Satan worshippers
Trap Metal, project goons, young murderers
Young gentlemen, (?) coke burglars
Boars Head, FEMA fatigues, all services
X2
(Verse 2)
Head bangers that pump rock, you bound to get your sherm on
I got some ugly b**hes for sale to, like Sandra Bernhard
Born certified, murder guys, straight to work inside
Toxicologist, feel special cuz you're the first to die
Dune buggies, Farragut Road like it's a catacomb
Tuna ca**eroles, coke slings, I'm baby (mackerel?)
Playing god
(It's after?) macabre, both from the ma**acre
Sprayed his badge, next to his brains, give me a spatula
Berkowitz flow, I do it when I'm serving that snow
Murking the coast, working that toast
FBI found on ready post
Mausoleum status, check the second roast
I came from nothing, I got nothing, I stop your pulse
Turn your body to a corpse, behind the wall of sleep
Cauldrons of leech, got hebrew k**ers storming to eat
(Hook)
Modern network
Drug farmers, Satan worshippers
Trap Metal, project goons, young murderers
Young gentlemen, (?) coke burglars
Boars Head, FEMA fatigues, all services
X2
(Verse 3)
Live off the interest of two mil, from moving pills
Turn b**hes to mummies, I take their checks and leave em nill
Cats play me too close, you're light in the loafers
Let me check your crew close, too much sugar up in your f**ing toasters
Glenwood Projects tradition
Born k**ers, no religion
Five fifty benz, no friends, doing business
New additions, I heard being broke is a superstition
Since I seen the ghost in the kitchen, taught me the (most?) conviction
(Hook)
Modern network
Drug farmers, Satan worshippers
Trap Metal, project goons, young murderers
Young gentlemen, (?) coke burglars
Boars Head, FEMA fatigues, all services
X2