The 45 Killer - Apathy

«Check it

Loop a funky 45, and I’ll wreck it»

The radio ain’t a factor to a radioactive rapper

I send your soul shooting through the sky like the rapture

I can put racks on the facts that y’all are wacker

The facts are I’m faster than Bruce Lee’s master

I’ll mash ya, I’m massive, disastrous massacre

I’m sorry there just ain’t another cracker of my caliber

Excalibur, I’m Merlin with evil spells swirling

Inside a boiling cauldron, use caution cause I’m hurling

Stones and rocks, and homes and yachts, telephone poles and blocks

With strength of a hurricane that drops a gazillion megawatts of electrical

shots

I’m so exceptional, the skeptical just shut up and watch

Y’all are fronting like your bosses, your business is all week

You little dudes are way more Walmart than Wall Street

The all-seeing eye, seventh letter, whatever you call 'em

The 33 vertebrae inside of your spinal column

Shoot a million future Messiahs inside of a condom

And shoot a million more at the bottom of hoes when I drop 'em

To their knees, like followers dropped at the feet of Christ

Need advice, drop the mic, it’ll probably save your life

Take a hike, we ain’t alike, it’s serious day and night

Put me in front of a shark and expect them not to bite

Brighten up, y’all emotional bitches should lighten up

Motherfuckers get gassed, so naturally I light 'em up

«Check it

Loop a funky 45, and I’ll wreck it»

«I'm not your average MC with the Joe Schmoe flow»

«Check it

Loop a funky 45, and I’ll wreck it»

«Skilled in the trade of that old boom bap»

«Check it

Loop a funky 45, and I’ll wreck it»

«If you don’t know me by now, you’ll never know»

«I can kick a rhyme over ill drum rolls»

«With a kick, snare, kicks and high hat»

I’m a bad man, take an aluminum bat to Batman

And backhand the nurse, then autograph the CAT Scan

No pulse, flat line when Ap rhyme, it’s Halftime

Rappers talk back, get a cracked spine

Only a face that a mother could love

I slap the soul out your body, let it hover above

.45 caliber killer, blood spiller, vanilla apes

Sleep is the cousin of death, so I’m still awake

Facilitate rappers who appear to have a death wish

I’m Hell’s biggest promoter, I’ll throw you on the guest list

Nobody’s schooling me, even rappers that’s cool with me

It’s like they drained the blood from my veins and put jet fuel in me

Your tomfoolery will have you run the jewelry

2 or 3 of your crew will be bringing all of your loot to me

Stupidly rappers assume I only mean musically

Until I beat 'em brutally, I’m fucked up truthfully, yeah

Holy grail sipper, this is the Last Supper

I save a chosen few, and let the mass suffer

Cash lover, ass toucher, Ap’s butter

Slash suckers before I chamber a round and blast fuckers

«45 killer»