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letra de dress code - kidddalegend

i’ve gotta cold k!ller appet-te for all these new artists/
i’m a living richard kuklinski mixed with a jeffrey dahmer/
with a dash of that hannibal lector and the zodiac k!ller with a kevlar/
vest of armor, keepin’ a brother hung or lynched, but i’d still feast on ya/
get these street rappers g-checked like they claim a set/
run their “real n-gga” card through the machine and double check/
every-and-anybody’s gettin’ their ident-ty tested when it comes to the kidd/
can’t put down no more phony n-ggas in this rap business/
i will clap at n-ggas, like an audience applause/
the boy is more of an animal than james howlett’s claws/
i’m my own d-mn boss, but i’m no disciple at all/
ask jesus whenever he makes his return who his disciples was/
or ask yeezus what them disciples about, dawg/
and that’s word to chicago, they about that real sh-t/
heard that from the n-gga schoolboy on that “banger (moshpit)”/
warn ya momma, i’m on that “bring drama to your front door” sh-t/
and make you forfeit the game you thought you was running/
i’ll be cruising through the clouds and with my tommy on top gunning/
rappers, rappers, rappers, pay attention, y’all some actors/
that goes for each and every negro that keep saying “that heat, i’m packing”/
you about to feel the heat when mccarthy comes through smacking/
anybody who’s acting ratchet, and that’s word to emmanuel/
hudson and his brother, philip, catch me dippin’ like a nacho, k!lla/
double dippin’ the chip like jerry was my neighbor/
and kramer was p-ssing through my apartment like i owe him a favor/
while george was still discussing a pitch of a show of nothing had flavor/
at the end, elaine is still saying the same thing she’ll end up saying later/
i’m dropping bars without a care, this is a song about nothing/
a///

- kidddalegend

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