Problem

Tell ′em

Machete gangAsk no question

Suicidal to the death

No fuck around with bombs of shots up in your chest

We don't walk ′round with no vest

No fuck around with bombs of shots up in your chest

Non frega un cazzo a me

Se questa merda non va in radio, se non va in Top 10

Scemo, parlo un altro slang

Giriamo incappucciati come gli Anunnaki

Gli appuntati urlano: "Fermi" con i ferri già puntati e bang

Credevo alla giustizia, ho visto un socio mio pestato

Li ho pensato: "Sono un bastardo senza Dio nè stato"

Nelle piazze, nelle case, come al bar nei weekends

Se ti beccano farai au revoir al tuo Audemars Piguet

Ok, wait wait, brotha

Com'è che se va magra vai di spada tipo JJ Abrams

Terrore ad ogni play se c'è il mio tape in sala

Voglio l′hall of fame, ascolto Tame Impala

Se vuoi faccio il translate, fake, impara

Più infami e lolite che squali a Recife

Più leche de tigre nel mio ceviche

Fai il capo quando sei il vice

Non vali neanche due lire

La fine del mio regime

Da fasci contro compagni

A gattini contro sardine

Quando il dubbio mi possiede, il trucco si intravede

Ma finché puzzo di potere ho il lusso di godere

Dammi il mic, homicide, così vedi che combino

Dove stai? Fuori o dentro? Sei peggio di un secondino

Murda, murda, murda (Murda)

Say we not afraid of people fuck what you heard of

We bust open the gates I enter where we murda (Murda)

So, please, don′t test me faith and stir up me hunger (Brah)

Yuh, di-di-di-di-di-did it off mystic

MAC one shot, might let it off

Script this, all this scribble, they ain't never lost

Ain′t no games, my grind they never soft

Big man like me ain't never gonna let ′em off

Realest nigga that ever, ever was, ever, ever was

Shut it, set it off, litty buzzin' off cocaine

And I made the record, the brethren can never

Phantom of the level that my brothers couldn′t live it to ahead of us

Eminem and any American that is leveling

I'm pretty but had to put an end of it

I've never been a brother they could sit on, and sitting was like a sussing

And I′ve been to the point that they tapping on a McGregor tee

You know my style, and you gotta hold my style

They ain′t bled enough for it, anything

Wait, wait, brotha (Hold up)

I just looked across my bench-press and saw eight plates, brotha (Eight plates)

You ain't liftin′ more than eighty off the eight states cut-up (Remember that?)

I was rippin' eighty ten times in the eighth grade, wallah

Played Beyblade, but

You made no bad boy, really

After this one drops, I′m confident whether Milan gon' feel me

After this one drops, I′m givin' you suttin' a tad more drilly

After that one′s dropped, I′m giving up, my dad gon' kill me

Like "Wizzy, you mad boy, silly"

Nah, Dad, I′ma bust quick, maybe in profit

You finna lock in or lock off, amigo

If I'm chillin′ with Bob in Milan with the squad, and you really gon' bop to Nitro

If you′re chillin' with her and he a double agent, you think he's a boss or a pedo

I can′t believe they′re mad, got dem men all walking around with a Robert De Niro

Them man are weirdos, I forget

Murda, murda, murda (Murda)

Seh we nuh afraid of people fuck what you heard of

Me bust open the gates I enter where we murda (Murda)

So, please, don't test me faith and stir up me hunger (Brah, brah, brah)

Murda, murda, murda (Eh)

Seh we nuh afraid of people fuck what you heard of (Brah)

Me bust open the gates I enter where we murda (Eh)

Me buddie are the ruffest that you ever heard of (Brah)

E se non so chi sei

Bussi nella notte e puoi

E quando ti incontro sai

Cristo vedo solo guai

Ahi Ahi