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letra de grinder - kill bill & rav

[sample]
mirror, mirror on the wall
who the thinnest of them all?
not you, theodore!

[verse 1: k!ll bill]
watch me k!ll this sh-t, b-tch i’m still legit
twenty-two without a f-ck to give about you chicken sh-ts
mister k!ll-a-lot, city of ash, i k!lled a pot
i can’t tell what’s real or not, boiling room with the chicken stock
break ’em down to their enzymes, this sh-t’s live
exo music creatures in this b-tch, we are the fifth kind
i told you motherf-ckers, this about the fifth time
i do this music sh-t for me, ’cause face it, this sh-t’s mine
i like your f-ckin’ style and that’s because you bit mine
you swines salty, get up off the pig rinds
crush, k!ll, destroy, don’t give a f-ck, sk!ll deploy
you f-ckin’ suck, k!ll your boys, you gassed up, you f-gs suck
vegito go fused with captain [?] i
done been bald, exhale and [?]
[?] vision with your foresights been peephole slow
i sensed my time to shine and gripped it like a needle nose
pliers set, gas fumes and lighter necks
smoke this sh-t, ignite your chest, my devil’s tryna buy a dress
and [?] i don’t buckle, got vegita’s knees
gas and chain sw-ngin’, keep a burner just to keep the peace
and no bunsen, catch me smokin’ out your function
kubrixxx break these rappers off with somethin’
b-tch, i’m stuntin’
[verse 2: rav]
make your mother’s b-tt bleed, guess who’s back, ho
kubrixxx, k!ll bill are ti-ka ti-ka ti-ka [?]
disconnect your diss cassette or vinyl
your [?] your spinal
[?] you’ve no eyeb-lls
can’t see me, b-tch on the tv, b-tch ’cause they label me as frightful
aw, that metal slug on actual like a skype call
got these kids smokin’ blunts, poppin’ [?]
not listenin’ to their folks, i guess it’s my fault, aw
new kids on the block runnin’ the playground, exo
we run this b-tch, it’s sorta like a greyhound expo
whenever you’ve kissed a girl, you’ve made out my ex, ho
so that’s my d-ck you taste, uh, that’s my kids you taste, uh
rav dumps his b-tches in the c-section
i’m makin’ hit after hit after hit like a weed session
keep that grinder in the pocket of my hoodie
i’m at your funeral, about to spark another doobie, uh
you cannot move me, this is not a f-ckin’ movie
i’m rockin’ baggy clothes because i’m pocketing an uzi, uh
and they can’t tell whether which the real me or just satire
but one thing they know for sure, i ain’t no pacifier
look, b-tch, just pass the fire

- kill bill rav

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