Styles P - Mansion Murder (Remix) lyrics

rate me

Believe me, if I started murdering people

There’d be none of you left

Basically hit you with the hard nigga recipe

Fuck you, if you ain’t with me, you’re next to me

Fuck you

I ain’t one for the small talk

Goes to get it in it like Nucky on Boardwalk

Real grinding nigga though, I’mma let the four talk

You ain’t got to hear me, dog, you could hear the lower talk

Uzzi at the place when the shorty blow the doors off

Free my dollar bills and killing niggas that they kid me

Nothing on your bitch face, rain is in the sick place

Maybe it’s the wax or the fact that I’m shit phased

Rap spelled backwards is par, you ain’t up to that

If your shit sound whack, I had enough of that

Fuck ‘em all from the bottom to the top

If you left it up to me, yeah, all of ‘em be shot

A bull’s eye on the forehead

Fuck whack rappers, leave ‘em all dead

Why do you wanna call me a murderer for?

I’ve never killed anyone

I don’t need to kill anyone

I think it

Voices in the attic, bodies in the basement

People under the stairs hold my guns and chasing

When I buy a brick I bring the best set to taste it

Zombies out here, yeah, this shit is like a wasteland

I don’t give a fuck about no goddamn bath salts

P91 to blow half of your mass off

Face all over the asphalt

No track down here but whips, it’s like NASCAR

Weed in the glass jar, shot ‘em in the head ‘cause the trash words

Then I got ghosts like Casper

No, I get ghosts like myself

If I rap like you I put the toast to myself

I shit on you, you mic booth in your board

Why don’t you find a bridge and bungee with no chord?

Or build yourself a pool full of swords

Dive in it, next time you rhyme put your mind in it

Maybe I should’ve killed 4, 500 people

Then I would’ve felt better

The healthiest nigga in New York, smoking Newports

I’m not a new boss, I’m in the new Porsche

My Nike sneakers they be my like sneakers

Jogging on the beach with my wife beaters

Word to Obama mama, Jeffrey Dammer drama

Swiss got keys, pianos and Alicia

When I be talking keys I’m talking coke and the Keisha

I know chicks that swallow cum and they still suck it

Miscarriage hoes, fowl ‘cause they still fucking

You know the deal, they don’t even wait to heal

My booster bitches, they can’t even wait to steal

My favorite sex position is the 69

I fuck her 6 while holding my 9

Amsterdam, stuff blunts, call ‘em sumos

Walking out the walk with a veggie meal, you know

Kick your feet up like weed up, show your speed up

It’s the killing spree, lyrically deceive your infantry

Listening to me gets rappers killed like demon frequencies

Sympathy, it’s never felt like infants hitting me

I’m spending all that fire, all y’all niggas smell like hickory

And chard wood and I’ve been talking with giants

Walking with lions, went straight to hell and formed an alliance

Scorching the highest highness ‘cause they ain’t chosen like I am

Spitting all this hard shit, my tongue should morph into diamonds

Coated in iron, enforced with the thoughts of the dying

Man, I wish you had it to realize you’re far from flying

Fuck you Icarus, lyricist floating, we’re watching trees

I put that infinite, limitless soul, I’m dragging with

Don’t test my greatness, sadists and caters will scorch the pages

If you read between the lines you’ll find higher minds than the sagest

Might realize more detail than entail the craft and the David

I am not a fucking rapper, I speak and happen to make hits