[talking:]
Ha-ha made it ma, top of the world nigga ha
I hear these bullshit ass raps, y'all calling hip-hop nigga
And I must say, I am not impressed one bit nigga
Nope, let's get to bidness though Killa hey
[Killa Kyleon:]
I'm a heat maker, no not a beat maker
I write fire do you get it, I'm a heat maker
I'm a grinder not a binder, but I keep paper
That's why them freaks chase us, we turn em to skeet tasters
I'll skeet taste ya, but not a whole lot
So don't confuse Killa for a trick, I give a ho not
Zip zero, stingy with that dinero
Say it ain't my demeanor, I'mma leave that up to FEMA nigga
I'm a heat maker, no not a beat maker
I write fire, do you get it, I'm a heat maker
I'm a grinder not a binder, but I keep paper
That's why them freaks chase us, we turn em to skeet tasters
I'll skeet taste ya, but not a whole lot
So don't confuse Killa for a trick, I give a ho not
Zip zero, stingy with that dinero
Say it ain't my demeanor, I'm leave that up to FEMA nigga
I do the beats, like Ike treat Tina
So I do a bitch bad, and treat a nigga worse than that
Step up your verses black, get on my level hater
But you gon need a staircase, and two elevators
I keep some'ing on my waist, that'll levitate ya
And decapitate ya, want me to demonstrate ya
When that Glock nine, give you a facer
Straight shot to your dome, like Patron with no chaser man
[Hook:]
Y'all dudes, ain't f*cking with me
Y'all dudes, ain't f*cking with me
Y'all dudes, ain't f*cking with me
Tell you the truth, y'all ain't got nothing for me no
Put these rappers in a line, let's see
Put these rappers in a line, let's see
Put these rappers in a line, let's see
No, they ain't f*cking with me nope
[Killa Kyleon:]
Put these rappers in a line, I run through em like push quick
That's the truth, that ain't no bullshit
'Gar full of presidential, smoking on that bush shit that kush shit
Smell it inhale it that's that good shit, I'm on that neighborhood shit
Run up in your house, gun up in your mouth
Without warning, like Notorious B
Killa move through the streets, so notoriously
I'm on that Gotti Soprano, with the ammo I'm a G
Dope than a motherf*cker, I'm a ki that's me
Download some'ing, get a c.d. and you'll see
Take off yor glasses, get a good look
I speak the truth, like I'm rapping out the good book
Flows hot, like I got em out a cook book
But I'm Emeral, you Martha Stewart nigga
Ain't no bitch in my blood, I ain't feminine
My heart don't pump Kool-Aid, my blood ain't cinnamon nigga
[Hook]
Killa Kyleon - Bright Lights Big City Lyrics
Killa Kyleon - Bright Lights Big City Lyrics
We currently do not have these lyrics.
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
[talking:]
Ha-ha made it ma, top of the world nigga ha
I hear these bullshit ass raps, y'all calling hip-hop nigga
And I must say, I am not impressed one bit nigga
Nope, let's get to bidness though Killa hey
[Killa Kyleon:]
I'm a heat maker, no not a beat maker
I write fire do you get it, I'm a heat maker
I'm a grinder not a binder, but I keep paper
That's why them freaks chase us, we turn em to skeet tasters
I'll skeet taste ya, but not a whole lot
So don't confuse Killa for a trick, I give a ho not
Zip zero, stingy with that dinero
Say it ain't my demeanor, I'mma leave that up to FEMA nigga
I'm a heat maker, no not a beat maker
I write fire, do you get it, I'm a heat maker
I'm a grinder not a binder, but I keep paper
That's why them freaks chase us, we turn em to skeet tasters
I'll skeet taste ya, but not a whole lot
So don't confuse Killa for a trick, I give a ho not
Zip zero, stingy with that dinero
Say it ain't my demeanor, I'm leave that up to FEMA nigga
I do the beats, like Ike treat Tina
So I do a bitch bad, and treat a nigga worse than that
Step up your verses black, get on my level hater
But you gon need a staircase, and two elevators
I keep some'ing on my waist, that'll levitate ya
And decapitate ya, want me to demonstrate ya
When that Glock nine, give you a facer
Straight shot to your dome, like Patron with no chaser man
[Hook:]
Y'all dudes, ain't f*cking with me
Y'all dudes, ain't f*cking with me
Y'all dudes, ain't f*cking with me
Tell you the truth, y'all ain't got nothing for me no
Put these rappers in a line, let's see
Put these rappers in a line, let's see
Put these rappers in a line, let's see
No, they ain't f*cking with me nope
[Killa Kyleon:]
Put these rappers in a line, I run through em like push quick
That's the truth, that ain't no bullshit
'Gar full of presidential, smoking on that bush shit that kush shit
Smell it inhale it that's that good shit, I'm on that neighborhood shit
Run up in your house, gun up in your mouth
Without warning, like Notorious B
Killa move through the streets, so notoriously
I'm on that Gotti Soprano, with the ammo I'm a G
Dope than a motherf*cker, I'm a ki that's me
Download some'ing, get a c.d. and you'll see
Take off yor glasses, get a good look
I speak the truth, like I'm rapping out the good book
Flows hot, like I got em out a cook book
But I'm Emeral, you Martha Stewart nigga
Ain't no bitch in my blood, I ain't feminine
My heart don't pump Kool-Aid, my blood ain't cinnamon nigga
[Hook]
Ha-ha made it ma, top of the world nigga ha
I hear these bullshit ass raps, y'all calling hip-hop nigga
And I must say, I am not impressed one bit nigga
Nope, let's get to bidness though Killa hey
[Killa Kyleon:]
I'm a heat maker, no not a beat maker
I write fire do you get it, I'm a heat maker
I'm a grinder not a binder, but I keep paper
That's why them freaks chase us, we turn em to skeet tasters
I'll skeet taste ya, but not a whole lot
So don't confuse Killa for a trick, I give a ho not
Zip zero, stingy with that dinero
Say it ain't my demeanor, I'mma leave that up to FEMA nigga
I'm a heat maker, no not a beat maker
I write fire, do you get it, I'm a heat maker
I'm a grinder not a binder, but I keep paper
That's why them freaks chase us, we turn em to skeet tasters
I'll skeet taste ya, but not a whole lot
So don't confuse Killa for a trick, I give a ho not
Zip zero, stingy with that dinero
Say it ain't my demeanor, I'm leave that up to FEMA nigga
I do the beats, like Ike treat Tina
So I do a bitch bad, and treat a nigga worse than that
Step up your verses black, get on my level hater
But you gon need a staircase, and two elevators
I keep some'ing on my waist, that'll levitate ya
And decapitate ya, want me to demonstrate ya
When that Glock nine, give you a facer
Straight shot to your dome, like Patron with no chaser man
[Hook:]
Y'all dudes, ain't f*cking with me
Y'all dudes, ain't f*cking with me
Y'all dudes, ain't f*cking with me
Tell you the truth, y'all ain't got nothing for me no
Put these rappers in a line, let's see
Put these rappers in a line, let's see
Put these rappers in a line, let's see
No, they ain't f*cking with me nope
[Killa Kyleon:]
Put these rappers in a line, I run through em like push quick
That's the truth, that ain't no bullshit
'Gar full of presidential, smoking on that bush shit that kush shit
Smell it inhale it that's that good shit, I'm on that neighborhood shit
Run up in your house, gun up in your mouth
Without warning, like Notorious B
Killa move through the streets, so notoriously
I'm on that Gotti Soprano, with the ammo I'm a G
Dope than a motherf*cker, I'm a ki that's me
Download some'ing, get a c.d. and you'll see
Take off yor glasses, get a good look
I speak the truth, like I'm rapping out the good book
Flows hot, like I got em out a cook book
But I'm Emeral, you Martha Stewart nigga
Ain't no bitch in my blood, I ain't feminine
My heart don't pump Kool-Aid, my blood ain't cinnamon nigga
[Hook]