Bishop - I'm Sick of lyrics

[Intro] Yeah I'll tell you what I'm sick of n***a Errrrrrrruuuuuuugh [Verse 1] I'm sick of seeing motherf**ers in the game who be thinking they the sh** (Murder n***as) Get a little fame in their name now they're acting like a b**h (Merc these n***as) I will go up against anybody I don't really care who it is n***a you down rate me, It will only be a minute 'fore I bust your wig And I was racing to kick him up out to space and Pulling out the machete, I'm ready like I was Jason Take him into a state where he is giving up on his fate With the pistol up in his face, and I'm giving no limitations (Whoop) I'm serving these n***as Ain't nobody from the slums heard of these n***as When they say "Where?" I don't refer to you n***as If you see them in the street just murder these n***as Hamburger these n***as Tuck your tail and run when a boss on the scene f** around me and you'll be off of the team And you will only be remembered like a thought from a dream (Why?) I'm sick of the n***as the kid smacked Then they come up on the ceiling and blow up off a diss track When I run into a n***a he liable to get smacked When you're going against Insane n***a there ain't no "get back" Cause I ain't on rapping n***a (What?) You-diss-me-I-diss-you-too sh** I be on catch a n***a (Haha!) In the street with the heat then see who pull it (Whoop) I be on f** guns Let's put them to the ground then we go toe-to-toe Till someone hit the ground and we go blow-for-blow Then we put it on YouTube so everbody'll know (You don't want that n***a) Hell nah homie I don't a**ociate with motherf**ers that's phony Even if they corny Some n***as hell up on it I'm tigering like I'm Tony Them n***as My Little Pony Strawberry Shortcake-ing these n***as Make it so that you can see the fake in these n***as Disrespect me I'm overtaking these n***as Five-hundred degrees and baking these n***as [Hook] They already know what the clique does Tripping then I hit them with the big slugs Run up on a n***a then he b**h up That's the type of sh** that I'm sick of When you call that b**h never pick up Wolfing n***a sh** trying to get tough When they see me them n***as try to switch up That's the type of sh** that I'm sick of That's what I'm sick of That's what I'm sick of (Whoop) That's the type of sh** that I'm sick of [x4] [Verse 2: Bishop] Bang the deuces Hang with nooses Insane, suffer brain contusions And stained I emerge out them flames, We g name the truest When the dark side come and get 'em Serial k**er, will you be my victim? Rigor mortis setting in Feel you chest stiffing Roll him in a Swisher now my n***as get lifted It's the mind of a psycho, psycho Middle of the night with the rifle, rifle Put my right hand on the Bible, I will Slice him up like Micheal Myers Left the remains all buried in the lake Texas chainsaw, wear a n***a face It's the murdering murder rage, Murder Was the Case Eat-eat it like an cannibal, come have a little taste Acting like an animal Tec-9 to Calicos Spit in all directions when the b**hes get in battle mode 6-6-6 Man these n***as throw up sick Off a bottle of Jack Daniels in the bottom of the pit Something like Rambo, Hollows in the clip Got a bad b**h and she swallow all the dick Flash like a camera if you all up in my mix Smoking on the stupid got your n***as super lit Baby take a stroll with the k**er Leave a n***a hogtied, floating in a river Y'all just the small fries f**ing with a [k**er?] When I say I tip 'em I ain't talking about a stripper Need some penicillin I'm affected with the sickness Sitting the the dark room, tripping with a slit wrist Sharper than a harpoon Turn them into shark food I spit it for the villains and the misfits [Hook] [Verse 3] I'm sick of seeing motherf**ers on the screens and the magazines I'm sick of seeing all these n***as on the scene wearing skinny jeans And I'll be off onto another level The wicked rebel and often I'll be confused with the devil I'm never tipping the petal And if I'm going to hell I'm going straight for the whale like motherf**ing Geppetto (Pinocchio n***as) Motherf**er I'm ghetto Pulling up in the bucket a n***a f** up he phantom Pick up a n***a phone with no service say he was stranded A couple of minutes later that motherf**er has vanished (Whoop) I spaz when I wanna Always I be talking on my bag full of ganja Anybody k** me I'll come back in and haunt ya You can find me in the dark with a strap and a launcher I was in the house reading tales of the Bible With a bottle and a rifle when I'm strapped to the face And my trigger finger itching Cause this b**h is steady b**hin 'bout some dishes in the kitchen; I'm a clack with the [K?] They don't give me credit Man this sh** is so pathetic I'll be coming so original, and now you're so synthetic I was hoping somebody would find me and get behind me But f** it I'll do it by myself these motherf**er'll get it Cause I ain't on rapping n***a you-diss-me-I-diss-you-too sh** (Whoop) I be on clack a n***a in the street with the heat and we'll see who pulls it I be on that shoot 'em all up in the face in The Root of All Evil night-time sh** Take a trip into a different dimensions, body suspension, like I was lifted my n***a that's how high I get Why try? I hit Rigor mortis is setting in their bodies is looking brutal Never letting no part of his body go into waste Skin him into a skeleton, eat him like he was noodle Bang with this Brainsick sh** Dead to the world like a walking zombie Sit up in the back with some cog-ni-ac I got some Zig-Zag wraps and about a pound of ganjie [Hook]