Lyrics to Forever
God asked me to do something with Earth
So I came to kill the bling and the blunts and the verse
Say peace and unity but still punching you first
Didn't have to join a gang, I was jumped in at birth
Lay your pop dukes out in front of your turf
I am now the Shaq of rap that once was a Smurf
Hunter will murk, mic assassin, assassin
Look at it, I kick ass at the ass end
Come in clashing and mashing
My mind's faster, so I'm harassing these bastards
And to them cats that got your back, I'm scoliosis
Hip-hop is in my soul, I flow holy ghostest
With the coldest flow spit, is he dope?
Take that to overdose with
So don't ask if I can rap, don't ask if I can scrap
Just lace up the gloves and pass me the plaque
I'm the actual gat for Pac, Big, and Kennedy
The illеst memory as my Glock rid the enеmies
When I stop the Hennessy
Record execs watch like they feeling me
Gangstas, I box with 'em willingly
Being better than proof is not your divinity
If I don't know your house, I'll blow your block whole vicinity
When you caught, you'll be shot for the penalties
Slugs'll throw your stomach like mixing vodka and Jimmy Bean
Go against the grain on my Willie Beamen
Is he dreaming? Swifty scheming, fire breathing, nifty heathen
God sent, exorcising fifty demons
Cast 'em out, they get to leaving
Simply genius, Nutso on the roof, asking if we even
Give you something to believe in, all the love reciprocate
While we eating, I'ma feed 'em, serve it on a nickel plate
As we proceed to give you what you need this evening center stage
Yes indeed, they weeded, homies leaning, 'bout to renovate
Kids running through the house screaming like it's winter break
I'm still on you even after winter break
Hit 'em with the one-two and run his jewels
Nigga, this is give and take
I'm Jason if the room's adjacent, this is Camp Crystal Lake
Feeling like a well-fed infant, I got shit to make
I see that nigga yelling 'bout guns, I know it's pistol fake
Plus they sweet as crème brûlée, you ain't heavyweight
You cowards better pray that karma be gentle on who you
Led astray, blast you while you meditate
Don't give a damn, two Glocks, I'm Yosemite Sam
Going ham on any man at any time
Whether you crippled or blind, you can even be nine or ninety-nine
I'm enterprising while minimizing
Killing guys with venomous rhymes, a sinister Don
Still in his prime, fucking with mine is iller than Farrakhan
Cooking the swine and sharing wine bottles with white blondes
You slingshotting while I'm tossing a pipe bomb
And I'ma never let bygones be bygones
I drive high, the Glock don't have a stash spot
Murderous mascot, I root for the bad guys
Detroit's flyest, I'm like Biggie to Bed-Stuy
Mac Dre to the Bay, 2Pac to everybody
I got a shotty that'll lift your mama so high
That she'll be crashing into an astronaut, (got em)
I'm a problem, drama-cidal mobster
I fly international for hours just to rob ya
I hide you so deep in the ground that the cops and National Guards
Will fly to China to try to find ya
You on the block with pom-poms and flowers
And mine is popping like Vietnam and Contra
Speaking on mine, they faces look like they eating a lime
These player haters gonna die with they eyes wide
Dirty Dozen
Signing out, until next time
And wear your D12 shirts every Friday
Every Friday
Every Friday
Every Friday
So I came to kill the bling and the blunts and the verse
Say peace and unity but still punching you first
Didn't have to join a gang, I was jumped in at birth
Lay your pop dukes out in front of your turf
I am now the Shaq of rap that once was a Smurf
Hunter will murk, mic assassin, assassin
Look at it, I kick ass at the ass end
Come in clashing and mashing
My mind's faster, so I'm harassing these bastards
And to them cats that got your back, I'm scoliosis
Hip-hop is in my soul, I flow holy ghostest
With the coldest flow spit, is he dope?
Take that to overdose with
So don't ask if I can rap, don't ask if I can scrap
Just lace up the gloves and pass me the plaque
I'm the actual gat for Pac, Big, and Kennedy
The illеst memory as my Glock rid the enеmies
When I stop the Hennessy
Record execs watch like they feeling me
Gangstas, I box with 'em willingly
Being better than proof is not your divinity
If I don't know your house, I'll blow your block whole vicinity
When you caught, you'll be shot for the penalties
Slugs'll throw your stomach like mixing vodka and Jimmy Bean
Go against the grain on my Willie Beamen
Is he dreaming? Swifty scheming, fire breathing, nifty heathen
God sent, exorcising fifty demons
Cast 'em out, they get to leaving
Simply genius, Nutso on the roof, asking if we even
Give you something to believe in, all the love reciprocate
While we eating, I'ma feed 'em, serve it on a nickel plate
As we proceed to give you what you need this evening center stage
Yes indeed, they weeded, homies leaning, 'bout to renovate
Kids running through the house screaming like it's winter break
I'm still on you even after winter break
Hit 'em with the one-two and run his jewels
Nigga, this is give and take
I'm Jason if the room's adjacent, this is Camp Crystal Lake
Feeling like a well-fed infant, I got shit to make
I see that nigga yelling 'bout guns, I know it's pistol fake
Plus they sweet as crème brûlée, you ain't heavyweight
You cowards better pray that karma be gentle on who you
Led astray, blast you while you meditate
Don't give a damn, two Glocks, I'm Yosemite Sam
Going ham on any man at any time
Whether you crippled or blind, you can even be nine or ninety-nine
I'm enterprising while minimizing
Killing guys with venomous rhymes, a sinister Don
Still in his prime, fucking with mine is iller than Farrakhan
Cooking the swine and sharing wine bottles with white blondes
You slingshotting while I'm tossing a pipe bomb
And I'ma never let bygones be bygones
I drive high, the Glock don't have a stash spot
Murderous mascot, I root for the bad guys
Detroit's flyest, I'm like Biggie to Bed-Stuy
Mac Dre to the Bay, 2Pac to everybody
I got a shotty that'll lift your mama so high
That she'll be crashing into an astronaut, (got em)
I'm a problem, drama-cidal mobster
I fly international for hours just to rob ya
I hide you so deep in the ground that the cops and National Guards
Will fly to China to try to find ya
You on the block with pom-poms and flowers
And mine is popping like Vietnam and Contra
Speaking on mine, they faces look like they eating a lime
These player haters gonna die with they eyes wide
Dirty Dozen
Signing out, until next time
And wear your D12 shirts every Friday
Every Friday
Every Friday
Every Friday
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