"Serial Killa" lyrics - LLOYD BANKS
[Intro:]
Six million ways to die, choose one
Yea!
Uh!
Right back at it!
Southside!
Somewhere rippin' feelings up
Still don't give a fuck
Fuck my enemies, get squashed, collapsed ceilings uh
New class, flew past too fast look like I'm pickin' on 'em
You rich, you lie, crew laughs, you need a witness ballin'
Don't forget the coward switch this mornin'
Jumpin' out the window, paint the ground, gangster clip recordin'
Take a bow, thirty eight styles, I wrote the shit that taught 'em
Fake smiles, veritably foul, only the clique important
You either sick or snortin'
I'm the smoothest, slickest, jewels ridiculous, coolest public figure talkin'
My homie got his hand all up between the crack vials
Now he hook the Hennessy and hold the mac wild
You supposed to be rhymin' bruh? Or a photographer?
Your buzz got a silencer, release the challengers
I rallied out the bottom, problem since I heard this album, rather spearhead the asylum need my commas, in columns
R.I.P to gangsters watchin', my latest project's like two razors choppin', solo army, muzzle names poppin'
Helicopter cliff stunts, vanilla coppa, big blunts
Flew Dubai twenty two times, ain't took a pic once
Though you been at it six months, your audio's the corniest, your boy, I school him order, auditoriums for warriors, victorious, they call me this
Your future's dimmer than them cloudy diamonds on your wrist you got rewind, I hardly miss
I can't stand a hater, he mad I made a stack couch
Got diesel like I'm juicin', haze like a frat house
Three days I be back out
These days you can't slack off, replays when I track hunt so DJ's bring it back uh!
Ready on my next (neck's) necklace and drippin' wet Texas, every time I pick up the phone a intellect stretches
The internet threats pissed, bet I remove your name when
I'm mad the booth is cavin', I'm turnin' Super Saiyan
Million dollar view complainin'
You got too used to hangin'
Hundred miles an hour the cash, this ain't the trooper flamin'
Losin' out on heroin, your trunk ain't get the last batch
Nigga this is blood sport, punches with the glass wrap
You ain't get the memo, probably not elite
Time to bomb the street, red alarm the weak, better y'all than me nigguh!
[Outro:]
Suicide, it's a suicide
Suicide, it's a suicide
Suicide, it's a suicide
Now tell me, what's my mother fuckin' name?
Serial killa!
Serial killa!
Serial killa!
Wake up the morning, eat your lucky charms cereal
