Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
KXNG Crooked
Performer
Bronze Nazareth
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Justin Cross
Songwriter
Dominick Wickliffe
Songwriter
Tristate
Songwriter
L.A.D.
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Bronze Nazareth
Producer
Lyrics
Yo
It's murder now
Click, click
It's over
Yeah
Golden Era, we load the coke in an old Carrera
Go to where you live and unload the barrel
Cause you told the sheriff
You broke the code, you know the terror
Hold you over an open terrace
Drop you on your dome, then go and smoke your parents
Born ignorant, rippin' joints like a torn ligament
Foreign women adore a nigga, get more intimate
Score like porn, filmin' it
These whores feelin' it
Before Eminem signed the boy, I was pourin' venom
In the tracks, I'm back, like Spinal Tap
Chiropract, psycho rap, Michael Jack's title track
I'm a Thrilla! A Killa!
Serial numbers get scratched like pulling vinyl back
It's curtains, the final act
You know where to find me at
I'm underground where miners at
But higher ground, my mind is at
You all cap, but minus that
Your highness, with an iron strap
That'll plug you like it's supplyin' crack
Born snitches die a rat
Golden Era, we loadin' coke in an old Carrera
Go to where you live and unload the barrel
Cause you told the sheriff
You broke the code, you know the terror
Hold you over an open terrace
Drop you on your dome, and then I smoke your parents
Hardcore, the 44 clappin' just like an encore
Usin' your blood to write on your mom's floor
Then hop on a Concord, to France, Bonjour!
I murder rappers, what you think I called Bronze for?
The crime lord, rhyme lord, yeah
Let the 9 pour
Metal in your spine cord
Mind torn, when I cut your wisdom with the rhyme sword
Serial killer, murder the Fruity Loops
Hooty-hoot, I'm an outcast
I taught the crew to shoot
Finger paintin' these dangerous sign languages
Pilot of the new Top Gun, I'm flyin' vanquishes
The Fendi trunks, master handle on a semi-pump
Penny dunks, out in Trini blowin' plenty skunk
Time glitch on a Roley wrist, ignore the drip
Soundclip from the motion pic's a horror flick
Suicide bomb on your mama for all the drama
Then it's death to the rest of your fam, for your dishonor
I'm a, little off, no pillow talk, my wheel of thoughts
Be as cold as a Sub Zero, De Niro talk
Infrared beam, gory scene, loud screams
Brain leakin' out your taco like it's sour cream
Golden Era, we servin' dope out an old Beretta
Owe me cheddar, they find you close to the buried treasure
Crack your dome for the merits, I'm a terror
No smoke and mirror
Crooked gave me the clearance, so I smoked your parents
Hardcore, we fully strapped, ready for war
Offshore, the fetty stacks settle the score
Then catch a Concord, France-bound, Mi Amor
Killin' rappers, what you think I called Bronze for?
They never ready
Forever petty, gassed like Getty
Soft Pendergrass, Teddy
Chop 'em up, machete
I'm Nas and DMX in Belly, you R. Kelly
Never talk on the celly
Stash houses full of jelly
Mario Andretti, whippin', dippin' through the traffic
Jurassic bastards, stretch the money like elastic
Loud in my lungs, access a thousand guns
Unlimited funds, I got six incomes
My bitches like Catholic nuns, sweet honeybuns
F-50 Ferrari, shittin', I got the runs
Lason the Don, animal
General Hannibal
Unpredictable, electro-mechanical
In my zone, I think like Al Capone
Passionate, Baratheon
This Game of Thrones
I catch a Concord, France-bound, all aboard
I murder rappers, what you think I called Bronze for?
Encore, flyin' over Christine Amanpour
Colored shores, condo condor, au revoir
Soarin' off on a Concord, Lyon we booked it for
I slay producers, what you think I called Crooked for?
Golden Era, we loadin' coke in an old Carrera
Go to where you live and unload the barrel
Cause you told the sheriff
You broke the code, you know the terror
Hold you over an open terrace
Drop you on your dome, and then I smoke your parents
Writer(s): Dominick Wickliffe, Baridi Jamar Omowale Jackson, Justin Cross, Donti V. Ceruti
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