Uh, I learnt the game, I know what I want and I'm in it
The time is now, it's gonna be up in a minute
You look a nigga in the eye, you could tell if he tinted
These fake rappers getting by with these hell of a gimmicks
They act like it's all love, only love is your money
So when it's over nigga, are you a thug or a dummy
I'm neither, but I been hot so long, it feels like I got a lifetime fever
And I ain't gotta spit, I could cough and still eat ya
And fuck rap I make mills off reefer
I'm a man first, tired of punching niggas, so I'ma shoot niggas cause my hands hurt
And God is great, guard ya space
One hand wash the other, both wash the face
And I head crack so much, it's hard to ace
.38 revolver flow, its hard to trace, what

Fuck that, pop off till nothing in the clip left (pop off)
Till nobody in his clique left (nobody)
Hole in the head, slashed or the split chest
If they asked what happened (tell 'emit's the Kiss Of Death)
Hustle hard till none of them bricks left (nothin left)
Stick it up till not a crumb on the strip left (take that, take that)
Make sure ain't a chain or a chip left (uh uh)
If they asked what happened (tell em' its the Kiss Of Death)
Tell 'emKiss (The kiss of death)

This is LOXville, and even white America'll let y'all negros know Jada got skill
You a jackass like Johnny Knoxville
So I can jus imagine how ya pops feel (damn)
And you ain't worth my shells, so you should just imagine how the Ak feel
A lot of niggas is thousandnaires, walking round town, fronting like they got mills
For what it's worth, I'm one myself, but my strength in the hood outruns my wealth
But you still might catch Kiss in some hot wheels, New Bentley coupe, with the stock wheels
Haha, look how I get back to it, I send my young niggas to do it, in the black Buick
I don't spit bars, I distribute the crack fluid
All I'm really waitin on is for niggas to act stupid

Fuck that, pop off till nothing in the clip left (pop off)
Till nobody in his clique left (nobody)
Hole in the head, slashed or the split chest
If they asked what happened (tell 'emit's the Kiss Of Death)
Hustle hard till none of them bricks left (nothin left)
Stick it up till not a crumb on the strip left (take that, take that)
Make sure ain't a chain or a chip left (uh uh)
If they asked what happened (tell em' its the Kiss Of Death)
Tell 'em Kiss (The kiss of death)

To all my real niggas, sorry for keeping you waiting
It's ironic, but the god was beefing with Satan
I love y'all tho, my niggas for even relating
This ain't Kiss talking neither, I'm speaking for Jason
When you a problem it's harder to keep them from hating
Niggas jaws, is like laws, don't easy to break 'em
If I wasn't on some shit, I'm getting on it, come to me with ya hand out to me, I'm spitting on it
I don't want to hear what happened, matter of fact, I don't even care what happened
Might as well declare the clapping, 'cause my bones is old
Gotta lot of wear and tear from scrapping
Hate a nigga that, ain't never there to see shit, but always hear what happened
The thing better than money, is respect
No love this time, nigga, Kiss Of Death, what

Fuck that, pop off till nothing in the clip left (pop off)
Till nobody in his clique left (nobody)
Hole in the head, slashed or the split chest
If they asked what happened (tell 'em it's the Kiss Of Death)
Hustle hard till none of them bricks left (nothin left)
Stick it up till not a crumb on the strip left (take that, take that)
Make sure ain't a chain or a chip left (uh uh)
If they asked what happened (tell em' its the Kiss Of Death)
Tell 'em Kiss (The kiss of death)

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Andy Thelusma, David Styles, Jason Phillips