Monstaz Ink Songtext
von Vakill

My name is legendary on all blocks for spittin fireball rocks
Before they call cops, had bodies in walls and crawl spots
Hammers is all cocked
So many Makaveli mini-me′s in the game
It's a fuckin′ outbreak of smallpox
And beef is when everybody is not breathin'
So body me? Not even

Everybody is holdin' and probably not squeezin′
And last year niggas′ albums did more
Floppin' than a Vlade Divac season
Shit, I′m one and then flinch
And them itchy trigger fingers gon' start formin′ a clench
And you caught in that hot lead storm and you drenched
My flow is fury as the scorn of a bitch
And you hot niggas ain't keepin′ shit warm but the bench

I'm a beast in bed, check my dickhead for triple sixes
I'll hit her fat ass from the back until it ripples vicious
Give titty nipple stitches


I′m a pimp, pussy fall in my lap like a
Strip club full of clumsy crippled bitches

Vakill, you just finished working on
Your new album Worst Fears Confirmed
That′s right
What can we expect with this album?
Basically I step my spit game up and it basically
Means more fears for these garbage-ass niggas

They say death comes in threes but fuck it
I'm feelin′ a fourth nut
Ejaculation until my scrotum shrivels and buffs up
From gettin' brain and poonani from two mamis
I′m tsunami with the spittin'
You cartoon-ass niggas is too Nami
Y′all faggots wish the champ lose
That ain't chips on your shoulder, that's switchin′ shampoos
You co-signin′ gangsta shit you can't prove
The hood won′t take ya

Y'all print model spittin′
Got no flow but the shit looks good on paper

Spit bars that'll knock out whole alliances


Out cold, y′all about to be outsold and clientless
Mouths closed in silence
This fear for smoke y'all asses faster than DMX's household appliances

You got no money and more problems, backwards Frank White
I shit on who you think nice before
The eyes of the Lord can blink twice
Ain′t a belt long enough to spank Christ
And ain′t shit sweet, bitch, only Suge in my tanks, Nite

Vakill, you spend a lot of time in the studio
Who are you making these records for?
Every motherfucker in America that think like me
Do shit I do, and fuck the kind of bitches I fuck

Niggas askin' "When is Va′ gon' bling?"
Or "When is Vakill gon′ establish himself as Chicago's king?"
I′m dreamin' 'bout a ten milli′ a year gun cargo ring
And the crown don′t move, it goes where I go, seen?

For decades hip hop been misusin' to go
Now that bitch about to tear up and some tissues finna blow
Who got issues with the flow?
You and XXL step your rap game up, sexin′ twelve issues in a row

Matter of time 'til my shit classic soon
Am I nice? How can you ask and spit burnt acid wounds
And run cemeteries out a casket room?
Y′all gassed with fumes
I go hard and wield a chrome nine or a plastic spoon
It's simple, I′m fly as spit on graves to rekindle a fire
And funeral directors is assemblin' choirs
No flows resembles messiahs

Niggas do not want it until a vest with
A Superman symbol's acquired prior

Does lifting weights improve your ability to rap?
Hell yeah, man, ′cause you got a lot of scrawny
Motherfuckers out there poppin′ that commando shit, man
And ain't none of ′em got no fist game. Fuck all y'all