Beat Butcha - k** for Hashem lyrics

(Verse 1) Rap's Phil Spector Always in black like a funeral director 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 And Soldiers screaming for vengeance I flood the hood with sedatives Schemes and Edward Kempers (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 worshipers Trap Metal, project goons, young murderers Young gentlemen, (?) coke burglars Boars Head, FEMA fatigues, all services X2 (Verse 2) Head bangers who 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 McEnroe 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 elite, got Hebrew k**ers storming to eat (Hook) Modern network Drug farmers, Satan worshipers 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 glucose, too much sugar up in your f**ing toasters Glenwood Projects tradition Born k**ers, no religion Five fifty benz, no friends, goon 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