Sunday, November 10, 2013

Crooked I - Beautiful Murder Lyrics

Crooked I drops off a loosie for the internets, recorded hours ago, with production handled by King Dave.

Beautiful Murder Lyrics by Crooked I

Mhm let’s in
Couple cyphus
Couple features knock down
And I ain’t got no chill

It’s a beautiful murder
Gonna let the murder star lights
Up in the boof you know that I prefer the dark
Or you or soldier then you’re about to earn the purple hard
Head you with a couple of sluts call it the work or beautiful murder
I’m killing your trap rappers and you back backers
As a funeral, you know what I do to wrack rappers,
Then your hats rapper coming around me tryin’ to act black em
Be who you are, black clapper
Is ironic ‘cause some of my niggas is white,
Niggas for life, niggas we icons bigger than life, nigga we vipons,
blowin up who ever pick up the mike
lettin’ that hot fire, kissin’ goodnight nigga I’m die long,
beautiful murder I’m using the words to abuse em and serve em it’s a fusion of musical murder
prose em and heard of confuse I think I’m using the burner
the music is shooting the .. that’s confusing and further
abuse me and murder guilty as child because I play hard
I’m walking your label and hit your lan on with the A all,
15 split splints, that’s for pissing on lyricism that’s for pissing on big dreams
Why am I so angry with it, you don’t know show about no rap
You niggas can’t be no critics, now millimeter .. wash your brain can get it
Blow a porter on the wall and looks like banksy did it

Beautiful murder, chopper rappers weakin the boof
You pull up missing your roof but I ain’t mention the coop
I mean your head blown off nobody missing it’s roof,
I’m the illest nigga this is the proof
Shit on your group like the picture would die read
They twitching when I appear, and fear that I’m engine to fire
If you say it, didn’t get it style for me he’s a son of a bitch and alive
‘cause he know the nigga is the pioneer,
Beautiful murder the shit is so melodic
The kind of shit that you listen to, why you hittin on some chronic
And talking D tax I’m still mad about me, now I’m getting on a cronic
I guess niggas they didn’t know that I’m in.
The best on the ghost for years even know all niggas close your ears
I’m still here persevere the industry main ghost of most my pears,
While I file with a cope and let toast the tears but fuck celebration
Our celebrations, contusions, transfusions needed your blood using
You’re losing your vital signs, homicidal rhymes got the rival done
Every time I spit my final line, and we beautiful
Like in Italians .. but not from barnies that ain’t suitable
For the circle of bosses, no squares in my office,
Not even a cubical
I’m back killing shit as usual
Hope I ain’t losing you.
No, no chill.
From now don’t call me no chill.
Said two times
Cop, hat up my cop?

Niggas act like they don’t know
What y’all niggas don’t know?
hi, I’ma just keep opinion mother f*cker,
Until you find out,
Ain’t fucking with me no chill