J.R. Writer - Homicide Feat. Cassidy lyrics

rate me

Look, I ain’t no condo slouch, a skater by your house

Ain’t got no time to talk, so hater watch your mouth

I pull it at a red light, that’s what I’m about

Them bullets on the next flight, cause they flying out

Pop off k’s, you knock off trays, but fakes can’t see real

Through some knock off shades

Bang on cock, I dare you to hop on stage

The shades don’t drop, who said they gotta drop on Jay, huh?

I touch the scene, they gonn see a ...beans

Hunned g’s and we taking all your money green

I got a shooter, that will straight refresh your dreams

And the way you shooting, the gonn need a double team

Fuck the drum, you gonn think you heard the pen

Fucking bum, go play in some dirty scene

Swerving, fan, my ride is colder

You’re on a verse, then man, send your wifey over

Hey, I’ll be on the east, fliest on the streets

Mami want a piece, she already got this on repeat

I’m a beast, shit, this ain’t even drop or get released

Would it be...i’m so used to body and the beat

Me and Castro, spaz flow, y’all gonn need a priest

Get your black clothes, asshole, I’m rocking you to sleep, capisci?

Real facts, you have never kill jack

And real rap, all your raps real whack, writer! Jr

What’s up with the what’s up

It’s homicide, yeah!

[Hook] x 2

It’s a homicide, somebody just died

It’s a homicide, somebody not alive

It’s a homicide, I’m heating up the street

I’m a beast on the beat, rest in peace to the deceased

I ain’t tryina battle rap you, I’d rather clap you

Shoot the magnum at you or cut out your adam’s apple

Cause I never was a fan of yours, boy I would have smack you in the face

But I just got a manicure

I take a man to war, but I don’t use my hands no more

I’m not tryina box, that’s why I got the hammer for

But I squeeze till my hands is soar, shoot you in your belly first

And turn your crewneck to a belly shirt

I’m on the strip selling work, where the fiends at

I’m from philly but I’m really wherever the cream at

Cats on my dick cause my strip where the green at

Where you get the lean at, cups of codeine at

Cats like damn cas, where you get them jeans at

Where that shirt come from, I ain’t never seen that

How you got your sneaks on, they ain’t even drop yet

I’m like I got jordans even Jordan ain’t rock yet

I’m dope, come at nigga stokes like a mark neck

Go and get your favorite, that nigga could get obliterated

A nigga made it cause I wake up and grind

I get so much brain I can’t make up my mind

It takes too much time for you to make up a line

Cause it’s hard like a barber tryina shape up LeBronn

This a homicide, a murder, the hostile JR spitting them bars at motherfuckers,

[Hook] x 2

It’s a homicide, somebody just died

It’s a homicide, somebody not alive

It’s a homicide, I’m heating up the street

I’m a beast on the beat, rest in peace to the deceased.