Human Centipede lyrics
by G-Mo Skee
[Chorus: Playboy The Beast]
Mask on, about to smash on the industry
Firearms, drop bombs, now they history
All that swag sh*t and skinny jean wearing, it gets to me
I'll scream "YOLO" as I'll send 'em to they entity
Mask on, about to smash on the industry
f*ck being calm, it's Vietnam if you step to me
I'm King Kong, too strong for y'all to mess with me
I'll make you eat my sh*t like a f*cking human centipede
[Verse 1: Playboy The Beast]
I keep it filthy as f*ck when I'm murdering tracks with G-Mo
Other rappers hit a flow and start to cut themselves like Emo's
My mom's would warp my ass and I ain't talking about aminos
It's the half-Latino Hitler killing swag fags and Beliebers
My bars carcinogenic, these rappers bе needing chemo
Hearing no evil, see no еvil, but evil is all I see though
In the speedo bumping Skee-Lo while they rapping about kilos
How they clap when n*ggas down and stack more C-notes than casinos
I'ma stab 'em with these needles and drain they blood like mosquitos
Talking about they pulling b*tches but these n*ggas be looking like Smeagol
And what's with Wiz Khalifa? Why you dressed up like The Beatles?
How the f*ck you claim you gangster but kick it with Justin Bieber? Yo!
f*ck that, my heart remains in the underground
I'm like a shark, you a piece of meat that I'm hunting down
That wack-ass sound coming up out of your mouth, it makes me frown
I'll make sure when I kill you your CD's and tapes are never found
[Chorus: Playboy The Beast]
Mask on, about to smash on the industry
Firearms, drop bombs, now they history
All that swag sh*t and skinny jean wearing, it gets to me
I'll scream "YOLO" as I'll send 'em to they entity
Mask on, about to smash on the industry
f*ck being calm, it's Vietnam if you step to me
I'm King Kong, too strong for y'all to mess with me
I'll make you eat my sh*t like a f*cking human centipede
[Verse 2: G-Mo Skee]
Dissing the rap game in the three-hundred days of darkness
All I hear is autotune and gay guitar riffs
Faggots backstage eating trays of parsnip
Then jump in the booth and try to say some hard sh*t
I'm finna spark sh*t to make the whole culture mad
Like I threw your favorite rapper off the f*cking overpass
He landed on somebodies windshield, broke the glass
Crashed into a diesel truck and caused a huge explosion, blast
Now send me a postcard from Hell b*tch
Listen to the filth or die, that's my sales pitch
Shells sit from the pistol
When the shells hit you it'll make you wanna find Jesus like hail Mitchell
You n*ggas ain't all that (Naw), this is raw rap
f*ck a battle, see me from the shoulders like a bra strap
Get your f*cking jaw clapped or get with a heater
We got more arms than Sheeva from Mortal Kombat