Still Kill ft. Sam Da Grouch, Status631 & King Tetrus Lyrics

Hand me the mic they gonna see that I go in, 4th quarter killer like

DeMar DeRozan flows go hard so when the bars start approaching

There's a whistling sound right before the explosion no time to

Prepare these 16's unloading yall floss an image you never lived

In ill expose it rappers are just gimmicks they finished, they all posing

Rhymes purer than that shit that they put their nose in

I'm too dope it's no joke these rhymes take lives shots I take are known

To put a whole through your mind I grip the mic impact will

Shatter your spine there's nobody you can name that can take what's

Mine fuck you gonna do my bro John D beside me you all better

Watch how you all move if you don't already know the option

You choose You got 2 killers infinite clips just letting loose

Yeah I will be rambling scrambling in these verses 

Check my pics though I'm sorry my shit is perfect 

I'm at the dealership like cop it you deserve it 

And this is for the moments that the king felt worthless 

The city talking, time is now nigga here's your chance 

I need that respect and those checks from Not Ya Manz

They say you want lyrics I guess I'm in high demand 

I hold the game ransom cause money comin' hand in hand 

Murderous nigga's I promise you will get killed on sight 

Penance like a weapon in my palm every night I write

Jesus Christ these nigga's always trying to dim my lights 

The best ever just trying to get the cadence right 

So much to say that I can't even get the words out 

All the squad fly together it's like a birdhouse 

My homies know me asking if I still kill 

Dont ask, nigga knowing that I still will 

I still will hold up steel still 

With the shit's drive me crazy kinda like steering wheels 

Bullets disappear in your body like Copperfield 

You're my girl from brazil got my back when shit's real 

You all wanna know why the king, he still kills 

See this is payback for the death of Emmett Till 

So this aint about bars it's more like a test of will 

This ain't a living testament more like a living will

Most of you rappers are hairdressers and paint nails 

But rap about the plugs you've met hustlers and fake sales 

I rap about the truth but I meditate and I bake kale 

I came into this game at the bottom so I just can't fail 

I'm conscious of my own true self rhymes not here to preach 

16's came off of my chest before my nuts breached 

No internet just lunchroom tables or rap right on the streets 

A stutter might just end your career end up with scuffed sneaks 

They suck seed just to succeed the labels on their lips 

Tutus and face tattoos check off that clout list 

White knuckled clenched fists to these idiots claiming haters

We just trying to teach you some self-respect no ventilators 

Hype the game glorify all its struggles they penetrate us 

Then they leave us out to dry then we die they really hate us 

Modern slavery the labels the masters selecting players 

And we sign away our lives and our souls hoping they pay us