Текст песни Prodigy of Mobb Deep - Recipe For Murder

The Bumpy Johnson Album
Жанр: Rap
Исполнитель: Prodigy of Mobb Deep
Альбом: The Bumpy Johnson Album
Длительность: 04:24
Рейтинг: 338
MP3: Скачать
Загрузил: method_85


Verse 1: Yeahhh When it comes to beef, nigga I'm a five star chef Look it's rules to this shit, I wrote me a cookbook You can't stand the heat, Hell up out the kitchen for that ass get burned or my fire start spitting First off, every customer is different. You gotta cated to their knees and give them what they wishing for For example someone act all wild, then you microwave they shit and serve 'em right now No time to think, fuck consequences. Just beef served up with the blood still drippin Keep the ingredients secret and kill anybody who peeped it Alright now, Then you got custy's who calmly waiting You got to marinate their shit and premeditate it No need to rush just season them up Put the flame on low and let them cimber real slow Get them real comfortable, just chil Then you serve 'em they last meal Fillet Mignon, well done, was it soft motherfucker now you stiffed 'em they up On special occasions I do delivery, but mostly I let them come to me Cause I ain't going on my way chasin down nobody, I got a bussines to run But if I have to I'll be knocking on your door like the pizzaboy Well hot deff on a platter, like seek and destroy {Fuck y'all want man, I don't want beef with y'all niggas man }{Stupid ass motherfucker} Chorus: Recipe for Murder (16x) Verse 2: It only take a teaspoon full of heart to squeeze on a burner And a cup full of karma sense to get a way with murder (??)I'll do rats like the chainsaw burns like poppeye's (??) I stuff your chicken while you gagged and tied Make you watch and cry while I feed her that beef Little to your knowledge she set up the whole thing That's my baby, my little bit of sugar, I use her to rock on the sleep Make them think shit sweet Yeah they call me the iron cheff, I put the iron to your head Remove all the wrinkels from your screwface betted in Botox the bolax, I push in another clip and I keep bustin shots Try to run get your wings fried, cook your insides with these copper top big boys out the .45 Tell you grace for you dig in your own grave get in My customer service number one in the business That boy done stick a fork in him Corners bring them doggybags too I'm finished Bring them scraps to the mall, it's usually none lead Every plate is scraped and food get ate You fealing tired? Yeah, that's that ice kicking in, when I put them niggas on that lead diet This is, food for thought get your fucking jaw wider Use a glutine for paint, I feed you to the lions Chorus
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