letra de 500 bars - el bandito
[verse]
first off
go suck ya mother for all the sh-t that you did
sammaliz a b-tch, ya brother in prison, you decided to ditch
f-cked off to malta couldn’t pay rent for ya crib
so in all honesty, it’s fair that i will address this sh-t
when a baby is born, they get breast feeding from the tits
however sam got it wrong, instead was given his mom’s d-ck
survived on the jizz, this caused his allergy of shrimps
like seafood in general, it’s salty and it stinks
so i can relate to the awful smell like every time that you drink
open ya mouth, slurring ya words, sounds like proper bullsh-t
mixed with diarrea and spit but doesn’t rhyme nor sound sick
when you rap it sounds likе indian hindus had s-x with a brit
when we givе you criticism, why you always get p-ssed?
and blaming ya no accent having black ass waiting to flip
to curse out the friends that tries to help you with ya sh-t
your ego and pride’s ya downfall you son of a b-tch
i’ll get rid of the weakest link in dm, don’t act surprised
the way you lie about yourself that you’re the bad man behind…
all the beats that i made, the lyrics i write, don’t even try
this b-tch no mastermind at all, he’s just a snake in disguise
there is no hope cus he’s fallen, too deep down the path
no redemption, just stalling me from my music, that’s a fact
and the way you keep on dissolving cus i know how you’ll hit me back
so drop ya sh-tty freestyles, atleast i can write a proper track
and you acting like the big shot, 8 months, now you a hard felon
in a norwegian prison, b-tchin’ ’bout it with an ego the size of a watermelon
try out 10 years with a sentence, than start yelling
’bout i live in babylon but you want the same passport, don’t help him!
deny you the right to valhall, after you die
and i speak on behalf of every viking when i say you suck d-ck without tryin’
even had to chop up ya vocals during mixing ‘cus you couldn’t stay on the beat
doesn’t please me reminding you had over 15 years practicing speech
don’t f-ck with me, ya lazy ass need to stop complaining
did this to yourself, don’t wanna hear excuses of you tryna explain it
no debating out of this situation you f-cking created
you’re sadly mistaken think i let it slide: where’s my paper!?
this broke piece of sh-t has no idea, what’s awaiting
even hit you with a song every day until ya ass is paying
you better sell some crack real fast ‘cus i’m getting f-cking impatient
best believe me i got ammo, yeah this c-cksucker’s endangered
even erased him off dm’s line-up, it’s officially over
can’t say for sure, but i know his hoe ass can sink way lower
pay closer attention when i smoke this clown’s a fake jamaican imposter
better off dying ya dreads blonde again, disgrace to real rastas
i’m the beast and a monster that you don’t want no part of
all this sh-t you done started, i will end it regardless
if you talk to me akward, you best to bite and stop barkin’
and if you still keep on callin’, imma turn it off… ok, marvin?
we all know that you starving because ya flow is so harmless
like a beaten up carcass, never let you flee from this carnage
just repeat all ya nonsense, but without me you’ll keep fallin’
all these beats that i’m sparkin’, we gone leave you there rotting
because to me you’re no problem, just by k!lling you harshly
is how i solve it so softly, when you put in ya car keys
no surviving the impact (boom!) there goes the dynamite
you ain’t leaving intact cus i have a destructive appetite
f-ck ya afterlife, ya stuck in purgatory on planes that won’t fly
delays, you’ll just be sitting there, hoping to die
but can’t take ya seatbelt off like you’re broken inside
bladder screams for a toilet, still tryna hold it inside
sammaliz without a question worst ever you send to deliver a message
he probably high, forget the time, he ain’t used to the pressure
and can’t remember the reason he got a p-n-s up his jaw
uh… you sucking the d-ck of the f-g you’re supposed to get rid off
i will not mention that you have the aids… oops!
but i won’t tell any woman what you gave ’em… (not again)
goddammit i can not let ’em know that you’re hiv positive
f-ck sake, you’ll owe them more money, financial losses won’t make profits
starving marvin wanna harm me with sh-tty freestyles so garbage
even the dumpster truck’s non-responsive ‘cus n0body wants it
means we gotta quarantine his body ’til dm inc. finally drop him
no autopsy, no nothing, we just decided to bomb him
ya need to die slow, you rat ass punk b-tch
better hide while you can, i straight unload and dumpin’ the clip
all the way from sicily, i really was busy with bangin’ this chick
next to malta while sam in a g-y bar like: the f-ck is this sh-t?
told him straight up: i’ll never forgive yo ass for this
son of a b-tch replies: “i’m telllin you here we get cheaper drinks”
i called him a f-g and told him to go suck a d-ck
‘cus seriously why in the f-ck did i leave sicily for this!?
on one beautiful day i know that god’s gonna smite you
and torch you with lightning so bright it will f-cking ignite you
feel the wrath of dm inc. as we completely paralyze you
and to tell you the honest truth, is that: n0body likes you!
we hatefully despise him, now he’s running out of luck
thin ice what you walking on, you degenerate drunk
and you barely able to keep ya balance, you’re basically f-cked
when it breaks, we’ll drag you down along with ya misery, chump!
i’ll keep ripping you apart, have you begging for the shotgun pump
but i won’t squeeze the trigger to free you from a lifetime of drugs
i rather laugh and torment ya screams for real, i’ll f-ck you up
best believe i crack jawbones following flows that won’t shut up
sam, remember you said, that you’re a thinker, i do the actions?
ok, i will perform bed action on ya girl without a trojan magnum
straight ramming v-g-n-l walls, my entire n-ts-ck in them
don’t care if i gotta f-ck out the aids planted in there
i’ll summon a succubus to suck it off from my d-ck
while sammaliz wish that he could think of concepts like this
however he ain’t sh-t because i said it, ya dig?
and when it comes to myself just know you’ll never be as sick…
that’s 1 hundred bars, 400 left to go
my flows expand my universe to continously roast…
you… not as a friend, this ain’t no joke
but somebody gonna have to say you rap like a hoe
it’s not your lyrics, it’s your performance, it blows…
we need to comb it, slow it down so you can spit ya bars, wow!
you already know sammaliz, now that’s a joke
you most likely never heard of this f-ggot befo’
and probably never will hear from this f-ggot again
‘cus after this embarrasing fact, he used to be my best friend
but he ditched all of us, turned to a queer over night
wait, that’s a lie, why? ‘cus he does this sh-t all the time
he best to put some responsibillity into his life
‘cus he slowly dying from all of the hiv inside him
living off borrowed time he can never pay back
payback time’s here and without me you’ll forever stay wack
i lace tracks with potent verbals of insane crack
to chemically castrate and neuter this deranged cat
try getting back at me but i use precision, i aim
shots and spray, causing you pain, have you starving for days
i’m a boss ‘cus i pay, unlike that nonsense you saying
120 bars, still i haven’t said my artist name
there’s no need yet, believe that, we’ll see that, dm reject
and i mean that, better flee fast when i speak facts, you should leave rap
to professional spitters that honestly bleed for this craft
to bless this art form and put more cities on the map
but if you slack around, don’t get productive with ya rhymes
you better not blame a writer’s block, you suck d-ck on the mic
so i’ll refuse to pass it to ya can’t spit the sh-t tight
and never wants to contribute anything except getting high
i’ll prioritize my music before anything, allright?
but enough of me, back to topic: where’s the d-mn fight!?
yo sam, i’d rather call you starving marvin from now
starts to sound way better when i’m calling you out
cus sammaliz or “sammab-tch” never holding it down
turned to his alter ego, sam the snitch burned every bridge he found
i’ll waste this f-cker with every round, burn him to ashes
ressurrect and k!ll him again than, put him in a casket
revive him, shoot him, do it again ’til this planet collapses
if satan wants a part of this than god is gonna panic
i sh-t you not, insanity’s limitless, welcome to madness
where no light can escape from this demented wrath, it’s…
a everlasting struggle, in trouble if you question my passion
scramble brains quicker than sam sayin: whiteboys works faster
atleast i write more dedicated than this b-st-rd
i’ll shank him and stab him in ways he can not imagine
even when i’m rappin’, poke more holes in this p-ssy and jab it
craft an entire verse played reverse for the ultimate backstabbing
to go as far and tell neekz, sorry for all of those songs
even though the sh-t he did to us was simply f-cked up and wrong
but regardless that’s life, we all gotta make our own choice
just kidding, jokes to the listeners think i lost my voice
put both of them, same boat, international ocean
2 extremely paranoid suckers together alone, and…
they also hate each other so they constantly smoking
a reality show for tv: what will provoke them?
wait, it’s been done! here’s the explanation
exactly how dm’s creation formed in the first place
sorry guys, pack it up, reinvent it ’til thursday
godzilla’s p-ssed, j-pans expecting another earthquake
burst open flames on ya membrane ’til nothing remains
i’ll waste this “sammab-tch” and leave his parents afraid
oh wait, what am i saying? they died already
but ya foster parents received urns of colorful confetti
go get your bros (no…)
they died in a car accident?
who cares? least the other survived with minimal damages
barely a dent in the trailer truck that he rammed them with
at least you got ya white german family to cry and panic with
laughing at this, all the way to the bank, ‘cus i’m rich
expanding my business without no mister sammaliz
b-tch, if it means i have to surgically remove him off of my hits
with a priest throwing some holy water on this b-tch
the power of christ compells you!
to get off my d-ck…
should i mention his only song’s unreleased, awful as sh-t?
funny you called it “hi-caliber” couldn’t even spark up a clip
high as a b-tch, left the safety on, dumb son of a b-tch
with greece the new hq, should’ve seen the set up
using me as the stepping stone while climbing ladders to get up
grow his angel wings, turn the feathers to dust
i got all eternity, he can never be dead enough
only thing we got in common now, mutual disrespect
set ya soul on fire with music while bullets hit ya flesh
twist ya neck ’til bones crack, minimum 6 times
before i’ll let you hit the ground with that sh-t ya freestylin’
you got potential to write good, i really ain’t playin’
but lyrics alone is just, not enough to make it
save it, ya sh-t flow needs some serious upgrading
and be grateful, i made an ep with you in the first place
so call me racist for disliking neutral swedes
despise the chinese and i ain’t forgot about the greeks
who gives a f-ck if i’m politically incorrect when i speak?
i spit the honest truth, difference between me and lil neekz
even give him my permission to diss you on a track
and i’ll sign a contract stating i’ll not defend your back
sammaliz should change ya name to nate higgers when ya rap
i’ll cross this clayton bigsby wannabe off the map
still bustin’ out rhymes combined with flows so potent
leave ya face, nose broken like those french dudes you provoking
whole jaw swollen, rather poke more holes in him
200 bars, y’all still want me keep going at him?
(why the f-ck not!?)
ok, reminding him he owe me my paper
what’s the problem? why you stallin’ marvin? need another favor?
forget it! i’m too busy compose something sick in the making
unleashing it on paper, hit the studio later
the hatred towards him for all the sh-t he been causing
and empty more shots when he’s resting in a coffin
deal with backstabbers you’ll take serious losses
basically you tipped the cops, arresting me for nonsense
no intensions, forgiving this inconsiderate pr-ck
i’ll just pick on him, kick him ’til he get’s miserable to quit
til he’s twitchin’ on the ground with that bullsh-t he spits
to diss me back with a full clip… but he missed (aw sh-t!)
how ’bout this? pitch an idea for a hollywood fl!ck
sammaliz starring as simba, i got the m-n-script
title: “lion king: second remake” there’s a plot twist… (spoiler alert)
he’s lifted up the mountain then get’s thrown over the cliff
hold up, wait… what!? what do you mean it’s too gory!?
not family friendly? man, it’s based on a true story!
h-llo…? they hung up… f-ck it, back with no worries
while i’m finger f-cking yo b-tch, oh so surely
she’ll explode in a hurry if you tryna get her back
‘cus i will clap ya regardless if i snap on a track
don’t give a f-ck anymore, i’ll get amped up and cranked
destroy you with every style in the genre of rap
and when it comes to hip-hop, i’ve been training for ages
got so sick with the pen, i go insane on the pages
simoultanously rehearsing all these layers i’m blazing
so when i step to the mic… you know i’m the danger
endanger anybody tryna play me in this business
which also means that i’m staying sober when i spit it
while these no name mothaf-ckas needing dope to think it
disciplined like a soldier plus i know that i’m gifted
light years ahead of you queers going through pig sh-t
tryna find a rhyme that can finish and close ya sentence
if you avoid to repeat it, i’ll open up a session
let y’all die honorably while y’all holding to your weapon
if your sam, don’t expect remorse or even pity
left his dignity in greece, acting like he spiritually with me
bullsh-t on that one, show the world why he shifty
as i strictly rip beats, i initiate the blitzkrieg
i bomb my enemies ’til my d-ck get’s soft
remember the last mothaf-cka that p-ssed me off?
i spit bars so fatal, you take cover or run
i unload so many rhymes you can never recover from
matter fact, don’t even bother coming back with a diss
‘cus you know better what happens if i really get p-ssed
best to quit ‘cus you know how long i can spit
and be a good sport about ya loss, get over it b-tch
the onslaught with more bars you’ll never forget
think i’m low on ammo, what you expect – sammaless?
kept testing this viking but my city, still repping it
for stavanger to maximize the damage on some better sh-t
professional spit, i produce in the booth with the gift
of creative solutions mixed with music and my fist
knock you clueless with 1 hit got ruthless to flip
you are soon to forget while i’m improving my sh-t
don’t ever try and step up with attempts to correct these lyrics
i mean business when i get busy, they summon my mean spirit
over melodic beats i create so neat, you’ll hear it
when i slaughter you verbally to let the weak perish
called up realist omega brought him up to speed on the situation
what really happened, why sam keep on hating
and envying, now getting released off of dm
relieved off his duty crawling where he came from, descend
to his mothaf-cking grave, no need to ever see him again
if you know him, smart to not believe in anything he says
because everything he say on a song or real life, is a lie
honestly a conversation a waste of our time
“im from the streets”
oh, forgot you had that one other solo song
nah forget it, didn’t do the chorus so i guess i was wrong (d-mn)
whatever, remember when i told you i bought you that beat?
well, forgot to tell you, i only got you a lease
‘cus why should i waste my money on buying you beats!?
if it’s truth you seek, fact is that you’re useless to me
sounds like” doo doo” to me, but hey at least my music is deep
while you still consume whatever you find as food on the streets
speaking of streets, the street sweepers at you with a purpose
like flamethrowers clearing out hobos begging for my earnings
i’ll make this into a microphone murder
as i begin to write, pick up a pen, even the blank page of paper get nervous
and why doing this? well, you honestly deserve it
even though you worthless rappin’, try to actually learn it
so i’ll burst in, decapitate while his hoe ass still twerkin’
i curse words packed together in incredible verses
increase my catalogue, getting deep as you go for a swim
tryna catch up but ya lyrics always remaining too thin
you can never win, fact of the matter no one will give it a spin
take your next step, already been there while you listen to this
like quicksand, slowly, surely, gradually sinking within
keep panickin’ the grim reaper tuckin’ you in, f-ck what you been
light this f-cker up like a cigarette again and again
reduce you to nothing but ashes with a weaponized pen
aiming precision inflict injuries, serious accuracy
plus infra-red predator vision incase you wanna battle me
grapple mc’s with hands clutched to crush they adams apple
strangle beats then stab out ya guts with massive daggers
lashing at this b-st-rd callin’ back-up, 1 grenade flashing
all it takes escaping to return, way more murderous gadgets
surpass the firepower ya clearly distracted
1 by 1 or simoultanously, too late to understand it
shouldn’t need to tell you i’m savage, spit chemically hostile
in the mind of a psychotic mobster, leave you dead as a fossile
pop 2 shots, ya whole brain capacity stop
f-ck it, empty the rest of the clip ‘fore i allow you to rot
so, sam? where the bad man with a good soul?
that phrase blows, you
more like a bad b-tch that can’t cope
you smoke loads, can’t find a rope tho
k!ll yourself, i know you ain’t got the b-lls for that sh-t
i dare you and i double dare you mister sammaliz
you set me up, so i’ll make this my ultimate mission
besides, even all of your lyrics are on the brink of extinction
i launch the most explicit scriptures towards him, less than a minute
wipe him off that rock while he wishing forgiveness
you a sissy, itching with cramps inside the tampon
even your best freestyle worse than my worst song
rest assure, we’ll see who have the last laugh soon
keep talkin’ only to leave here with critical stab wounds
through the flesh barrier for think he can rap too
you’ll never be able to improve, get outta my d-mn booth
slap the sh-t out this dude ’til his tooth falling off
couldn’t fall on a track to spit on, he rather take shots
blood, guts, intestines spilling over the studio floor
a serious sh-t storm, the clean-up asking for more
i wreck entire rap groups leave they v-g-n-s so sore
but when it comes to sam’s snitchin’ ass… i declare war
‘cus i ain’t going to the door without a gat in my hand
i overstand what happens if i don’t unload it and blam!
all you other suckas scram ‘cus i will visit y’all in h-ll
remember what neekz did? well, history repeats itself
cus ya belief system a fail, however me, i’ll prevail
don’t need you as a friend to be unique and free myself
tear and mutilate, i violate physical laws
rip out ya skeleton bones, than split open ya skull
i turn the pen into a rambo knife, poke ya torso
continuously cut throats open after the choke hold
cryogenically frozen holding to a nuclear device
keep provoking like messing with the timer, set off to blow
unfold more explosions than michael bay could ever capture
write easily chapters, i keep staying in action
gun smoke from the barrel of the rifle after i’ve blasted
even my bl–dy knives smoking after a severe stabbin’
keep yapping ’bout i’m a white wigga wannabe rappin’
go check my catalogue, unlike this starving broke f-ggot
scattered by the strong wind passing
around more 1 blunts life cycle rotating to ashes
in a circle of hippies singing to stop all the violence
getting popped by the rifles when the shots getting fired
why you mothaf-ckas trying? celebrating y’all dyin’
light ’em up in excitement even though we despise ’em
now sam hanging round with his agents with wires
he’ll need that protection when i blaze in with fire
and still braggin like he a lyrical messiah (yeah right!)
go ahead, lace a track ya godd-mn liar
you spit like an amateur, ya lines will not do it
best to show some improvement, ya flow utterly useless
you never ever practiced, just remained clueless
i am better than you, h-llion cruel the most ruthless
on a genocide crusade, babylons kryptonite
unleashed pandemonium, still rip the sh-t tight
the thickest layers of music you could never recite
while leaving the scene rigged to go off like dynamite
send shots through ya headphones, assault ya mental
cause disturbing effects, dissolving ya dentals
contuse brain patterns while ya shaking and trembling
missile guided heat-seekers headed in your direction
you not crawling your way outta this situation
place ya rotten soul in nightmares you can’t debate with
the most potent verbals unleash my creations
another step further to imminent devastation
while sam probably wishing and hoping i’ve forgotten
he ain’t the boss of me, crossed him off the list and dropped him
with more venom than injections from anti-psychotics
now i’m off it, never stopped me from taking back what i deposit
back to spit more lyrics to make ya brain vomit
kinda like your habits, a miserable alcoholic
barbeque more mic’s you could ever grapple off the set
i spit, rip, twist, k!ll all of my targets
hand grenade ya throat, better chew what you toke
ya broke flow cannot contain this beast that you woke
seen you shaking like a wimp tryna spit a real flow
‘cus you are still afraid to go infront of a microphone
and why the f-ck do i got to repair ya broken vocals?
you not above underground, you smaller than local
features from his overdosed thoughts out the nose
think ya loco? tell me, who’s the illest spitter you know?
who the sickest producer in one psychotic rock star?
that slaughter more bars with no auto tune at all
the guy you least expect to see up in this rap game
still rejecting fame because insane is my middle name
and i ain’t never gone forget how you ran off to be quiet
still with the “all up in your face attitude” with weak rhyming
see right through him, ‘cus i know he still hiding
now i’m f-cking his so called “sister” when i feel like it
yo, sam?
why claim to be the best all of the time?
when all of ya rhymes nothing than pathological lies
spit in ya eye, you’ll be shocked in surprise
so try acting like you care when i bust one in ya bride
you’re a f-ckin’ addict, so don’t expect me to lose
i know you slackin’ in some homies couch like it’s nothing to prove
high off the dozier reeking from the living room
better remember ya penmanship, know what i’m capable to do?
and why you so scared of spoon feeding ya listeners?
don’t they deserve to know the hypocritical b-tch you are?
same p-ssy who ran off after his friend got locked up
but i’m back for vendetta, with a loaded sawed off
cooking crack on the paper ‘cus my pen craves attention
unleash verbal chemistry in the most dangerous sessions
if i got to blaze in with weapons for spittin’ speech in my direction
i’ll empty entire clips of fire to teach ’em a lesson
say you are your brother’s keeper? sh-t got hectic so you leave him
what kind of f-ggot sh-t is that!? backstabbing deceiver
best believe it when i’ll kick you out ya own group for treason
i’m still gone use dm’s name ‘cus i got a good reason
i will serve this c-cksucker on a plate for feeding time
read between ya eyes, see you feeding off lies
but internally you’re broken, gossiping off my life
don’t even try to think you solid as these rhymes
i break speech patterns, cause more distinct damage
have you double up my budget as my instincts unleash madness
punch you 5 meters up in the air, screaming in panic
respect distinqushed brutality, you ain’t seen the half of it
mothaf-ck sam, mothaf-ck malice
only bad motherf-cker i respect is samuel jackson
i stay blasting this c-cksmoker who quit rappin’
and sold me out for a cigarette like a greek f-ggot
don’t you ever come at me about doing serious time
i done been through inhuman conditions, i still shine
like diamonds exported from the blood of african slave miners
i embrace fire, blaze higher than all of you plain writers
raise ya eye towards me, complain ’bout ya boat license
claim you’re experience was, oh so traumatising
rehabilitate ya mental before challenge a viking
behemoth, 3 headed demon legion of the gemini
the most feared people in the past, coming to ya
thought we were scary back then? ressurecting the rumours
only disclude sweden… just for staying neutral
middle finger all you want, you still gonna lose, kid!
i am dm, stir up merciless controversy
the second you tryna follow my style, it get’s blurry
my vocal turns the heat up, so how you gone hurt me?
when i keep the fire burning like wildfire in turkey
spreading to the closest border, a natural cause
just to reinforce the panic as the second trojan horse
best believe i wrote this blind folded, still won’t stop it
without a single contact lense up in my eye socket
returned once again to get sh-t-wasted for ages
the death surrounding my surroundings, i embrace it
while you boast about ya off-the-dome rappin’ basics
i give life to my thoughts while my songs remain ageless
think you deep with a hippopatomus jaw? forget it
send you with cement shoes down subconcious levels
where time defines itself to ultimately never end
with extreme pressure like the bottom of the mariana trench
sensing the presence of neekz think i’ve forgotten
him stealing my beats, removing my name from my album
giving his listeners the illusion he spit verses
tryna swim out the depths but barely float above the surface
over and over, like a track on repetition
however you won’t clash with the sickest spitters precision
because we know you’re in no condition
so you sucking up to other rappers for a position
this man-b-tch once said that he was a goddess
if you don’t believe me, check it up, i’m being honest
he even thinkin, he a super soldier and sh-t
got abducted like: well, let’s get this over with
he expected a probing, plenty hours of pain
but he got dissapointed when they only wanted his chain
i made sure… he’ll never be the same
because his little nuts shrivels up by the sound of my name
now back to the dm, the missa dead man
his claims to be the best like every dj khaled tag
freestylin’ sam? more like snitchin’ gone wrong
during an outbreak in malta while failing yet another song
wrote a couple albums? what happened after that?
did they continue remaining nothing more than text raps?
what about your “dark titles” ill-strating you bad?
need beats to make your lyrics become an actual track?
“this is sammaliz!” eh… salvation of beats?
couldn’t even lubricate instrumentals to keep up my speed
straight laughing at his pathetic attempts, get off the ground
can’t even hit a drum pattern with his broken sound
time to make music, lyrics stuck inside his mental
“8 hours later…” still missed the instrumental!
so i’d rather drink “black blood” stay awake, attack ya dreams
stalk “death stalkers” while reading fatal diaries
blatantly justify why your ego still drunk
and blaming me for the fact that you actually suck
go ahead and talk for hours, tryna prove that you won?
yeah, talking loud in public, manipulation 101
who the realest mothaf-cka that you personally know?
and never fake condolences, like your 2 dead bros
if death will start ya life, i have the patience alligned
500 bars!
yeah, how you like me now?
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