| Dead dead dead |
| Kill kill kill em all |
| Kill kill kill em all (leave em lyircally) |
| Dead dead dead dead (x3) |
| (Kill em all repeats while next line is playing) |
| Die die die, die, die, die, die, die |
| (Get em!) |
| When I hit em with the rhythm nigga chill em to the bone |
| I kill em with a lyric and them niggas gettin gone |
| I can never finish a song |
| Because the competition never hold on that long |
| Flow faster than the minutes go on my phone |
| He wicked lyrical criminals, I’m on my own |
| The sickest individual |
| Ya’ll might know I’m |
| I blow a niggas mouth out |
| All I show em, is I’m a monster, beast |
| Runnin through like the Nephalim |
| And I’m fuckin up the rest’a them |
| Okay nigga, let’s pretend that you a bullet proof vest, and I’m an automatic |
| weapon then |
| And that chest you call yourself protectin is your title |
| But when I’m releasing this heat, it’s vital, ya die |
| Goin against me is suicidal |
| Kray psycho like Michael |
| Comin back like I just sold a sack on the 99 |
| Drive by and I kill em with words, bloody, a mess all over the curb |
| Murda mo some mo, hit em hard, get em all, kill em all |
| Hit the nigga in the heart for having a thought, then hit I’m in the brain for |
| thinkin he can hang |
| Perfect execution, last assassination |
| Murda mo, murda mo, murda mo, murda |
| (Killa, killa) |
| I told ya’ll I was about to get it crackin, keepin the blaze, can’t fade |
| Krayzie Jackson |
| Creep with the AK |
| Straight aimed exactly |
| Enter the brain |
| Bang bang bang stained with platinum |
| A magnum for hit records, trek a nigga like mandom |
| Blitz headache |
| No floss, so believe that’cha seen whut’cha saw |
| So raw, make ya broad wanna get naked |
| Cause I spit that fire, dawg, hot heat ta burn ya |
| Had to take a little bitta me ta learn ya |
| If anybody really got beef than stroll up |
| And sho’fun they gonn' get broke n rolled up |
| Get smoked and folded up |
| I’m kinda like a 4−4 just load me up |
| (yeah) But when I bust I’m like a AK-47 |
| Under the dust is what the muthafuckas reppin, check em |
| And ask em how they got there |
| Leathaface let the sawed off pop, yeah, and make sure all the bullshit stop |
| there |
| Cause 20 of em verses me still is not fair |
| Just not fair |
| And always strong to the finish, never seen a nigga so I’ll that’s so wicked |
| None like me before |
| Nigga feel like you iller than this then come get it |
| Perfect execution, last assassination |
| Murda mo, murda mo, murda mo, murda |
| (Krays a killa, killa) x4 |
| Dead dead dead |
| Kill kill kill em all |
| Kill kill kill em all (leave em lyrically) |
| Dead dead dead dead x3 |
| Die die die, die, die, die, die, die |