Problem
Tell ′em
Machete gangAsk no question
Suicidal to the death
No fuck around with bombs of shots up in your chest
We don't walk ′round with no vest
No fuck around with bombs of shots up in your chest
Non frega un cazzo a me
Se questa merda non va in radio, se non va in Top 10
Scemo, parlo un altro slang
Giriamo incappucciati come gli Anunnaki
Gli appuntati urlano: "Fermi" con i ferri già puntati e bang
Credevo alla giustizia, ho visto un socio mio pestato
Li ho pensato: "Sono un bastardo senza Dio nè stato"
Nelle piazze, nelle case, come al bar nei weekends
Se ti beccano farai au revoir al tuo Audemars Piguet
Ok, wait wait, brotha
Com'è che se va magra vai di spada tipo JJ Abrams
Terrore ad ogni play se c'è il mio tape in sala
Voglio l′hall of fame, ascolto Tame Impala
Se vuoi faccio il translate, fake, impara
Più infami e lolite che squali a Recife
Più leche de tigre nel mio ceviche
Fai il capo quando sei il vice
Non vali neanche due lire
La fine del mio regime
Da fasci contro compagni
A gattini contro sardine
Quando il dubbio mi possiede, il trucco si intravede
Ma finché puzzo di potere ho il lusso di godere
Dammi il mic, homicide, così vedi che combino
Dove stai? Fuori o dentro? Sei peggio di un secondino
Murda, murda, murda (Murda)
Say we not afraid of people fuck what you heard of
We bust open the gates I enter where we murda (Murda)
So, please, don′t test me faith and stir up me hunger (Brah)
Yuh, di-di-di-di-di-did it off mystic
MAC one shot, might let it off
Script this, all this scribble, they ain't never lost
Ain′t no games, my grind they never soft
Big man like me ain't never gonna let ′em off
Realest nigga that ever, ever was, ever, ever was
Shut it, set it off, litty buzzin' off cocaine
And I made the record, the brethren can never
Phantom of the level that my brothers couldn′t live it to ahead of us
Eminem and any American that is leveling
I'm pretty but had to put an end of it
I've never been a brother they could sit on, and sitting was like a sussing
And I′ve been to the point that they tapping on a McGregor tee
You know my style, and you gotta hold my style
They ain′t bled enough for it, anything
Wait, wait, brotha (Hold up)
I just looked across my bench-press and saw eight plates, brotha (Eight plates)
You ain't liftin′ more than eighty off the eight states cut-up (Remember that?)
I was rippin' eighty ten times in the eighth grade, wallah
Played Beyblade, but
You made no bad boy, really
After this one drops, I′m confident whether Milan gon' feel me
After this one drops, I′m givin' you suttin' a tad more drilly
After that one′s dropped, I′m giving up, my dad gon' kill me
Like "Wizzy, you mad boy, silly"
Nah, Dad, I′ma bust quick, maybe in profit
You finna lock in or lock off, amigo
If I'm chillin′ with Bob in Milan with the squad, and you really gon' bop to Nitro
If you′re chillin' with her and he a double agent, you think he's a boss or a pedo
I can′t believe they′re mad, got dem men all walking around with a Robert De Niro
Them man are weirdos, I forget
Murda, murda, murda (Murda)
Seh we nuh afraid of people fuck what you heard of
Me bust open the gates I enter where we murda (Murda)
So, please, don't test me faith and stir up me hunger (Brah, brah, brah)
Murda, murda, murda (Eh)
Seh we nuh afraid of people fuck what you heard of (Brah)
Me bust open the gates I enter where we murda (Eh)
Me buddie are the ruffest that you ever heard of (Brah)
E se non so chi sei
Bussi nella notte e puoi
E quando ti incontro sai
Cristo vedo solo guai
Ahi Ahi
