Murder-Death-Kill

[Celph Titled] Eso, what up son? you know how the fuck we do, motherfuckin Demigodz Motherfuckin Army of the Pharoahs It's murder death kill playboy, ain't no safeties on These microphones, ain't no motherfuckin silencers for this shit Cause when we hold 'em... We let this shit go off right in they're fuckin face (let 'em know) [Celph Titled] I'm always gettin a suntan on my gun hand cuz I keep the burner out Ready to blaze scorchin lead at your fam So when I give you a pound, it's really 4 Cuz the .45 defies gravity, liftin you off of the floor Pick out your coffin decor maybe some marble and gold And hope they write some nice words when they carvin your stone "here lies a noble man who got brave stuck out his chest bone Beef with Celph Titled now this grave is what he calls home" Get your gall stone put in a jar in a lab Even the coroner got sick and had to barf in a bag Your boyfriend said you was a marvelous fag And in drag thought you was God like the carpenter's dad You said I wasn't rippin shit properly? The magnitude of my gangsta is a motherfuckin scientific anomoly With a strange collection of weapons I got a good assortment Come close and ima cut you with a mercedes hood ornament [Bridge] Yo, you talkin loud homeboy we never heard of you Put your little record out, nobody never heard of you Went to your city, and they said they never heard of you So we usin motherfuckin "Bars of Death" to murder you [Hook] [Esoteric] It's murder death kill [Celph Titled] Or it's kill death murder [Esoteric] Celph push they wig back [Celph Titled] ES push it back further [Esoteric] You comin out your face? [Celph Titled] We handle beef to the bone marrow [Esoteric] No matter if it's Demigodz [Celph Titled] Or Army of the Pharoahs [Esoteric] We beheadin your heroes steady and ready, we're Eddie Guerrero Theoretically your chance of deadin me: zero Give up your petty dinero, you better be at your pedigree We medically and poetically my machete is ready Me men don't need to coast the homie Celph keep the gat close packed so Shove it down your throat, make you bite the iron, man like you jacked Ghost Bars of death Connected like money fresh off the press An old carcass left in the fetal position no people listen Record spinnin but the needle is skippin I never needed permission in sayin I don't believe in religion I believe we're deep in a lethal evil tradition I believe in murkin enemies with precision feedin the fish intestines of defeated G's in my vision Your styles infantile seek out a pediatrician Or be another emcee missin on the evenin edition [Bridge] [Hook] Yea, DC, with the sinister track..