Lost Art of Killing - King Fantastic

Say buddy you in my lane

You backing up the game, you lame, you want fame

I can give it to you daddy

I ain’t took my meds for weeks and I am feeling fucking batty

So if I put the tip of this fifth to your dick-sucking lips

And I give you the whole clip

Then we both get what we want

You get on the front page and I get one less chump

I encourage all frogs to jump

I heard they taste like chicken, and my bitches in the kitchen

With a pot of hot grease, and a couple side dishes

Slice this nigga up so we can eat

Killer Reese is on the raps, troublemakers on the beats

You dudes be talking so street

And that talk be sounding tough until you gotta talk to me

The authentic is off limits

You don’t talk to the truth if you talking about gimmicks

I am the game, I’m not in it

That means fifteen years not fifteen minutes, nigga

Let’s cheer for the bad guy

Clap when he get away, live to kill another day

Here’s a toast to the cutthroats

Niggas who ain’t on it unless they don’t mind gun smoke

To my life-time criminals, remind 'em what fear is, we tired of that weird shit

And if you feeling how I’m feeling put your drinks in the air for the lost art

of killin'

They call me Reese the Uno, the sumo

Used to push d, like kumo

You know I’m the realest nigga to do this

Got a crew of real spitters that’ll murder this new shit

I encourage LA to stay away from the techno pop of the day, that shit is gay

The good ol' years I talk about

Is when the loud mouth niggas still got stomped out

Now everybody so passive agressive

You get locked up for teaching niggas a lesson

But there’s only so much testin'

I can take before I break and I expose my weapon

I’m out here LA reppin'

Last of the heathens, dark heart still beatin'

I’m on the west side, geekin'

This is the turf that I stick my cleats in