Killuminati (feat. Capital Steez)

(Yes, skrawberries) I'm a beast with these flows Two birds, one stoned, you get geese'd when trees rolled They say I'm evil 'cause I trained my ego to see gold 'Cause he know, seagulls couldn't see these goals, please It's the return of the Beast Coast No cash flashed, but the cheese still make teeth show Incognito, is how you move on the strip What you tryna be, Vito? Well, there's rules to this shit Don't get clapped, y'all ain't real spitters, y'all lips chapped Better watch it, Mr. Nice Watch, don't risk that I got a six-pack of bare skill that I spill like that And everybody know (that shit crack!) Y'all niggas softspoken, down below choking The type to drop the soap when you soakin' in front of most men It makes sense why you want beef, well this frozen It's nuts for you screwed in the tool, and can't hold 'em Better shoot yourself Plaxico, because I'm next to go The Progressive flows from New York to New Mexico My lyrical span is what the fans is demandin' Step into my box and that's exactly what'chu stand in Ain't no half steppin' around me And you gotta drown a fish before you clown me The young cop killer, I'm that ill, so doc' will ya Give me two shots for 2Pac killer, nigga Soul searchin' 'til my flows are perfect I ain't tryna be a slave to grow old from workin' Sorry Bada$$, you lucky that I peeped it second Tell them niggas keep it steppin' with they beat selection Check the melodies, it's so heavenly That shit'll get your hips to move with no 7D's Audi-opium, can I bust soliloquies? Got that shit mixed and mastered, both remedies Grab a spoonful, we stirrin' up a pot And you know we gotta serve it while it's hot I'm flowin' like a volcano and drippin' verses off the top Dirty cops still swervin' on the block Lookin' for black kids, that spittin' up acid It's in my jeans, so don't worry what my pants is Get with the script, it's that ignorant shit And they bound to get sick of us quick, but I ain't sealin' my lips It's a shift, I know you feel it man We blowin' up like a ceiling fan Droppin' off jewels like Killa Cam's man When it comes to kickin' verses, I'm Mr. Van Damme Crushin' strawberries, it's a jam So throw up both hands if you can Ironic how I'm killin' this shit, until they bury me My volume is going in depth with longevity Stupid