Strangeulation II (feat. Stevie Stone, Murs, Brotha Lynch Hung & Godemis)

Strangeulation II
(Verse 1: Godemis)
Deevil!
Prayin' at 12:12 for hell, felon to sell
And slept on a bed of nails, like nothing I've ever felt
Ghost in a shell was molded with other demons
As if I needed some help or a host to preserve the heathen
Got it, my brain is rotted, I swear to God that I'm not it
I'm set to go to the gallow as soon as the rope is knotted
I ain't highest of high then the hydra have used adrenaline
Came in the cypher clean, still smelling like putrid cinnamon
Then I'm in, enemy of the state, I'm straight at an angle
Stop risking and quit your bi*chin', it ain't like I'm raping a angel
Said I was magnifique, ya'll ain't f**kin' with it, capiche?
Not as safe as you would've thought with the devil under your feet
They throw a shot and then sit back and wait for some reaction
Ain't nothing to it but to do it, I'm a mummy rappin'
So get to clappin' or dissin' the clan you hatin'
Listen, the man is Jason and this is the Strangeulation
(Verse 2: Stevie Stone)
Stevie Stone, I'm on it, I'm so clever
Nobody comparing, I'm better, I put sh*t together
America's most elaborate rap, pick ya head up, huh
Small talkin'll get you wet up, huh, yeah
I'm ready to kill all you ni**as
The feelin', adrenaline that'll spillin' a mill
And yeah, I mill' all you ni**s
Ain't even reach out they climax, rather my celing on ni**as
And backin' a back, I'll backhand Billy you ni**as
Get busy on ni**as, this ain't no random some leakage
Stonie in the building, the bi*ches pull out their cleavage
The snake and the bat, you see them prominent features
The species, Strangeland, we rain on your region, huh
Meat wagon, I come, I be taggin' 'em
Baggin' 'em, bring 'em clusters of three, got three magnums
Gaggin' em out, you pu**ies is still talkin'
I'm draggin' 'em out, I'm tappin' 'em out
(Verse 3: Murs)
Aww sh*t, they f**ked around and signed a backpacker
Smart, rich, handsome, plus he's not a bad rapper
I'm just a little local talent that f**ked around and made it big
Underground bully, pickin' on all these famous kids
And the danger is, now I'm doin' stranger biz
About to make the world forget about what a major is
Independent Powerhouse, running all these cowards out
My enemies are all forgotten, wishin' I would shout 'em out
And I don't want to hear a rapper harmonize unless
He thuggish, ruggish, Lazy, Krayzie, Bizzy, Wish or Flesh
But maybe I'm just hatin' 'cause my black ass could never sing
And f**k that autotune I hope the Futures filled with better things
And you a f**king liar if you say you found a better team
Impossible! Like trying to fit my di*k inside my wedding ring
And all the bread it brings will be distributed and properly
I represent for hip hop not some f**king aristocracy
(Verse 4: Brotha Lynch Hung)
I'm the Martin Scorsese of rap, rap predator
Better than severin' the reverend with a jackknife
Kevin and eleven of 'em, revvin' up the engines
We bubblin' up like 7-Up, then when
We shoot that sh*t, we eat that sh*t for din-din, grrr
I don't need ya f**kin' okay, ah, are you serious? I'm okay
I'mma make you bleed like it's your period, period
I eat period pu**y so eating you ain't serious
What, you need for me to flip that sh*t and rip that sh*t
Like a skitzo, stick that sh*t, that sh*t, like a automatic pistol grip?
No! I created this fast rap, I'm past that
I put a gat in that ass crack and blast that
I'm light years ahead of 'em, might use the head of 'em
I lose, then you can keep the breadcrumbs
Grrr, my ni**a, I'm a carnivore
Ready for any kind of war, any kind of score