Killing in the name Lyrics

[Intro: Eighty-Eight] Aye! (Buckle up it's time to, woah) Yuh, yuh, yuh, said (Woah, take the mask off, aye) Take the mask off! Aye, uh, uh, yuh, yuh, aye (Profit Plus Money Gang in it) [Verse 1: Eighty-Eight] I put my best foot forward, that’s why the door cracked open Tell her hop in the foreign, why the window all broken Is this car even yours? Nah bitch of course this stolen Now I’m riding alone with a pocket full of Trojans Don’t talk shit, there’s .40s in the back We can Swiss Cheese up your front and we can pepper your jack We can cut off yours ears and feed them to Tyson We can shred up your flesh and we can make them some Tyson’s Feed the children’s dawg, that’s all I do Leave his body parts chopped, Rest In Peace to the Screw I’m a rare breed man you can call me a Mew But I ain’t no bitch I’m the version with 2 This ain’t a Millie Rock, this a money dance My dick hard and I also go that .30 damn Bitch shoutout to the Sam-I-Am But we no longer eating Green Eggs and Ham It’s like we streaming on Tidal, 444 shots in my rifle I’m more of a man than a bitch’s every month cycle When I hop on this beat, instincts go back to the primal Cuz I got more cut-throat lines than a bitch that’s suicidal I ain’t fucking with your title, I’m a heaven sent killa Bitch I’m the Northwest Playboi that came straight from the villas Billie Jean said I should just kill the man in the mirror But I’ll come back bad as ever just like MJ in thriller Imma cat why coming ‘round like a rat I got a Zoo to run, so don’t you be coming ‘round on my ass All my dawgs walking ‘round wit a dick and a strap Just don’t ask for your bitch, because they won’t give her back, huh [Hook: Naturally Trash] Buckle up it's time to blast off, woah Molly, perocet, nigga take the mask off Blood mary, bloody martyr getting gassed up Eighty-Eight, Nat Trash dawg, never passed up, yeah Buckle up it's time to blast off, woah Molly, perocet, nigga take the mask off Getting gassed up, yeah Eighty-Eight, Nat Trash dawg, never passed up, yeah [Verse 2: Naturally Trash] I spit that easy bake oven, I spit that bread in the toaster That amusement park music, I pick and roll in the coaster From the hip and reload up, I hit a lick when I pull up I'm quicker than Sonic, you better stick to the quota I pour a six and that four up, like I'm playing Nintendo Fucking break the controller and I will play with the tempo I hit the breaks, hit the pedal, we gon head to the meadow I spray rockets when I fill up with irregular ammo Betty Boop you if you thinking you are better than me Keep on killing in the name like Rage Against The Machine You could add me to your playlist, you know I ain't playing favorites You can't play me like I'm dumb if my lyrics keep on changing I been tripping off the xannies, look through every nook and cranny Half these bitches cannot stand me, til I win a fucking Grammy You don't know what's fillin up these pockets, you can't tell me what I'm rocking To be honest, you're either cold or hot on the topic I'm on a mission, spittin mint condition shit Hop out the space coupe, I'm in a mint condition whip I lost the keys that I'm posta put into ignition shit I pistol whip, I rip a stick, I benefit and live with it Triple six six six, to piss on that nigga Timothy Hit em six six six, times in his yellow teeth Jump a farmer and his cattle, I rip all of his livestock The man won't win the battle, I hit em right in his blind spot I have fun and split like candy sticks and motherfuckin powder dip As loud as sounds of houses shutting down in power outages In panic, countin down like December 2012 n shit Sour simpletons want clout, as white as sauerkraut n shit I paint illicit lyrics in the walls of where the guns pop Where niggas’ll jump you and fuckin run you for a gumdrop The slums of somewhere, where the stoners posted at the bus stop Where everyone knows everyone all because of their mugshot Where drippin thugs and flippin drugs is all them bucks about Suppressors of guns’ll keep you from runnin your fuckin mouth A dozen of fuckin dumbos and dummies are all allowed No banks are open cause no one can ‘fford a fuckin account [Hook: Naturally Trash] Buckle up it's time to blast off, woah Molly, perocet, nigga take the mask off Blood mary, bloody martyr getting gassed up Eighty-Eight, Nat Trash dawg, never passed up, yeah Buckle up it's time to blast off, woah Molly, perocet, nigga take the mask off Getting gassed up, yeah Eighty-Eight, Nat Trash dawg, never passed up, yeah