Defari Killing Spree lyrics

A different caliber of MC
This track is filthy, word to OJ, you make me feel guilty
Of first degree sound boy murder
Unlike anything out of L.A. you ever heard of

Word up, you play with fire, you'll get burned up
Best believe that my shit sound the best when it's turned up
Loud, mashing down the block suburban style
Eighteen speakers plus kit chromed out

Yo, you think that you fucking pro?
On the low the other night I caught your wack-ass stage show
Oh, boy, you're just a bore
But you tell everybody that you're like Busta
And you got "Rhymes Galore"

Ain't that something?
Got the nerve to call yourself an MC, man, you be fronting
I don't apologize, oh yeah, and uh
Go back to school, learn some concepts and grammar
Of yourself, get a hold

Next time you on stage
Use Primatine for some breath control
But now don't let asthma be the excuse
You was definitely doper when no one knew you

I'm on a killing spree, murder sound boy constantly
Constantly murder wack MC
I'm on a killing spree, skill level at maximum
Dem pussy clat boy, nah, wanna see me

I'm on a killing spree, murder sound boy constantly
Constantly murder wack MC
I'm on a killing spree, skill level at maximum
Dem pussy clat boy, nah, wanna see me

You was stone cold lying by the full wack rhyme writing
If I had some gasoline I'd ignite it with my lighter
Boom, you combust 'cause you disgust me
Wacker than them flat ass crackers on Three's Company

You walk around, mad 'cause no one's feeling you
Mad at me 'cause all your peoples they know my lyrics too
They sing along 'cause my song bumps on the mix tapes
That you made, yet and still you try to playa hate

(What?)
You're featherweight, weaker than a paper plate
Lyrically when compared to me, I know your style is fake
Fraud, manufactures, cheaper than Hyundai

Now you're hardcore you probably used to be a true nerd guy

Make up your mind, guy, now you're the Mr.Get High, guy
If you ever step to me you'll think French because
You're fucking fried in the mix of my verbal assault fighting sticks
You shouldn't gamble 'cause round for round, you can't handle this

I'm on a killing spree, murder sound boy constantly
Constantly murder wack MC
I'm on a killing spree, skill level at maximum
Dem pussy clat boy, nah, wanna see me

Cat was out of pocket, got socked in his jaw
Fell to the floor, that's all she wrote
But I wrote rhymes that burn every time
On mad mix shows I got wreck off the mind

But what's in a rhyme if it don't sound tight?
You ask me if a lot of rappers are wack man you damn right
Who's to say these brothers from L.A.
Will take charge like DeBarge and shine in a special way?

I say okay, let's get paid, let's put this money
On Putnam and sip Bombays with dis lemonade
Use, Gatorade to refuel electrolytes after I ignite this mic too
Yo what's my name? Defari Herut

By the way since you been asking all these questions
Who the hell are you? I seen your kind before, no lie
A devil spy, disguised as an ambassador
You can't fool the Divine Sun Rule
Word to blue magic, step right up and see the Likwit Crew

Hurry, hurry, get your tickets, stand in line
After the show, it's at the Towers on Sunset and Vine
Me and my niggaz at the bar sipping Henny
Got your bitch open all night as if her name was Denny's

I'm on a killing spree, murder sound boy constantly
Constantly murder wack MC
I'm on a killing spree, skill level at maximum
Dem pussy clat boy, nah, wanna see me

I'm on a killing spree, murder sound boy constantly
Constantly murder wack MC
I'm on a killing spree, skill level at maximum
Dem pussy clat boy, nah, wanna see me