Tekst piosenki
(Intro)
Before I commit suicide, lives will be taken
(Verse 1: Kendrick)
Mmm, Real Hip-hop, west coast
Yo, Yo, before I commit suicide, I see to it that a million MCs die, lyrical homicide
Walk up on ’em, circle the block, hit ’em again less than 5 minutes exact, then fleeing the spot
This is Armageddon, two weapons, two palms, guns drawn, BANG! mothafucka BANG! One man, Vietnam
.45 popper, rhyme like the 9-5 big poppa, on a seven deck, [?] with my comrades
Had doctor knee pads, gave it to her out of courtesy, curtains close on that Maybach, lay back
As I hop on my underground shit, like a subway, derail the track, the real is black
True rhyme sayers, hitmen, crime payers, llama throwers, hustle in front of corner stores
Street catered, for been living on minimum wages, it’s not a threat I’m doing myself a favor, with suicide
(Hook)
Before I commit suicide
Before I commit suicide
Suicide this is suicide
Suicide this is suicide
Suicide this is suicide
I got my mind on the murder and the murder on my mind
(Verse 2: Kendrick)
Mmm, you a lie, you and I are, not alike I, flow like water, [?] with five mics, ask Sean Carter, Nazir jones, or anyone sitting on the throne, don’t, get your career postponed, women, children, I rode past, in traffic, can’t steer, cars crash
I got a death wish, you might be on my guest list, I wrap rappers on stretchers, guns clap in the direction your scent is
No matter your gender, not sexist, you MC? you better surrender, I love breakfast, lunch and dinner
Killing these rappers, spawning in the winter, training in the summer
More practice, let’s continue, doing numbers like an accountant
You wonder like knife, how much money I’m counting, you’re damn right!
I spit it pretty precise, and whenever the verse is done, means I took me another life
Suicide, this is suicide
Suicide, this is suicide
Suicide, this is suicide
(Oh, you motherfuckers think I’m playing, huh? Let me hop on my Daddy Kane shit, jump on my shit, 'Naw mean?)
(Verse 3: Kendrick)
Yo! Yo! I delete MCs under concrete, verbal mass destruction, you want it? then call me
A killer, I put these rappers on their death bed, one shot to the heart, one more to the head
My rhymes so clever I never fall off from an industry, nigga, they all get hauled off
But not from a sawed-off, but more like an uzi, spit rap, and these succulent MCs get chewed, B
Money, power, respect, pussy and pistols, hoes pop pills like it’s a modern day ritual
But I don’t sweat ’em y’all, I just behead ’em y’all, and leave the party jumping like players of B-ball
The B-board, those will die who decoy, destroy any rapper thinking he make noise
It’s K-Dot: the terminator; fake rapper rhyme slayer, those who live now die later, the suicide…
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