Cursed

[Verse 1: Diabolic] I step in the place with an empty stomach—I’m starving I'll run in someone’s apartment with a gun as a marksman When the Suffolk department runs up with a warrant Fuck the judge—I’m departing with the governor’s pardon Getting drunk with my squadron of prehistoric beasts If I even claw your cheek, I’mma leave with all your teeth Fuck your prerecorded speech—I believe that talk is cheap When people caught your beef, you just flee and call police While my composure’s kept closer than my foes could get Last time I broke a sweat, your ho was soaking wet You chose to pose a threat and hoped I overslept Don’t hold your breath, homie. You’ll probably choke to death You know the rep—now go check your method and see The truth getting buried then resurrected as me Diabolic. I’m the message setting you free Like the Grand Dragon hanging by his neck from a tree [Verse 2: Smoothe Da Hustler] I hang with the illest, gangbang with the realest I ain’t staying—the skill is. My aim is to kill us I stay chasing them figures. I came banging them triggers I’m in your cage to pillage, a bunch of angry gorillas Check niggas, deaf niggas, secs to listen saying they feel us Wanna hang with the fearless? Yeah, they can hang from the ceiling My name stay in the business—I maintain an appearance I can’t change in the mirror. Y’all can’t paint in the picture I keep a shank in the jibbers. My naysayers are finished I lane change in a minute. My lane can’t be driven in I break day for the digits. I traded ‘caine with dealers I traded trey eights for pay, traded greys with killers I say, "Stay with your vision." My slang made an incision Some say I changed but the deal is I just changed where I’m living So when I say it, I did it. You fake it; I live it. You play it; I spit it You stay and I visit the lady to get it Now let’s hit it [Verse 3: Kool G Rap] I just do it, niggas, like vandalism About to catch an aneurysm from my hammer’s rhythm Nigga, damn. Who is him? Rocks his copped—a brand new prism No money, bitch, but I grant you jism Street smarts, buck sparks if I see marks on the grams you give him Real nigga, bitch. Will glance you with him Long story to short, I’m like, "Fuck if I die poor in New York" When OG with OZs with 40 to snort From things, I lust, blinged up like King Tut and bang all the sluts Blow no chips, pay off hookers and strangle the bucks Niggas spaz—.44 Mag to mangle his guts Only going to jail chained-up ankle and up Face mask on like Hannibal Lecter. My part of Queens the animal sector You can’t handle the pressure. Keep standing there, hand on ya pecker End up a tagged foot in forensic van, bein' inspected, nigga [Verse 4: Graph] I got the spot on me I run with a strong army, a gun and a cross on me So if death was coming, may God warn me I keep cess coming—I’m puffing like Bob Marley I get your head busted—bloody y’all laundry My money’s all bloody, y'all. Put money on in front of y’all Skull if y’all saw me—get to running up off me I work hard—I ain’t comfy under some palm tree But I’m Hummer stunting, jumping out of somethin' costly Fuck the law, please. They ain’t plucking the gun up off me The handle’s hot—I feel like I’m tucking a cup of coffee Pack mad heater—feel like I’m rubbing the sun across me A black hand piece that I’m cupping is something frosty I got bitches on my nuts. Some are horny Exhibit A: I can’t get your mother off me I’m diabolic, I’m dying watching some busting off These fire rockets the size of the projects Bang bang