Nter - Rise of an Empire lyrics

They callin' for beef, im a murder more swear to god imma k** some At your door step with a pump bang bang leave your body all turned up Imma drive off with blowin' smoke from my blunt from my eyes what the blood marks Banny you off in the back seat Don't talk much man I got real c*nts on my team Im skullin' jack til I'm drunk in the mirror talking sh** with a razor blade in my mouth to my tongue Look if you wanna come and get it don't forget it and to one man i still pump hustle hard Trap runners in the trap, pump crack make stacks man the boy merks bout dat Imma rhyme for my team imma die for my team at the top is my dream sellin' out ain't 4 Nah it ain't for me what happened to the days man they're about the street Im a lion in the jungle and these c*nts are weak, f** others rappers to roared the beast, to roared the beast Come hard with that real talk, never bow to judge when we in court low brim hat with a shiv dacked k** em all get your house run through with just one phone call King of the underground, and I been around since way back man imma never leave King of the underground, selling out to their self is the same sh** that they preach King of the underground trap runners better click and you know that we run the street Listen in to some real sh**, imam k** these mother f**ers but im over the bullsh**ttt Coz im from the south, Hurstville homeboy put a gun on your mouth *cheek cheek* (man) Kick in your front door rip the phone cord out the wall face down on the floor My clique bout that life and I ain't scared to die put a price on your life You wanna roll that dice this games all f**ed up rappers rappin' to a pipe Imma bring the heat back put Sydney on the map, take over with the gutter rap Coz im sick of the fakes that when damn well man got what it takes In the game a long time, steady staying on my grind I was raised by a stop sign Make money as a young boy, this has been a mixtape streets going make noooiiiise Trap runners mother f**er Yeah, south side Sydney Comin' with that real sh** Trap runners Money money Homicide Tryin' making it out of these mother f**ing streets man Sick of these fake c*nts talking like they doing sh** but they ain't I've been on the grind since a young boy Sydney searchers mother f**ers do your homework You know what im sayin' f** man