Songtexte:
The Killing Tree Dressed To Fuck

for who lost, kill a nigga, we just might Bitch niggaz get left flat, like a flat rat in the street Abunch of young head spliters, like K.C. and B.G. Fuck

enough, fucka Roc-A-Fella is the army, better yet the navy Niggaz'll kidnap your babies, spit at your lady We bring - knife to fistfight, kill your drama Uh, we kill

Puff ain't never beat up Steve Stoute Truth first, Terror Squad, shoot first War with me and you guaranteed to leave the earth I'm dressed to kill, my

[Black Thought] From the Tunnels in the wee hours of the black morning From The Roots sprout the Foreign Objects family tree This is mad abstract All

, no time to watch these putos roast Coasting, down the block fucking up these levas I don't give a fuck and I don't think I ever will I kill for thrills

? What the fuck? Someone threw a brick into my TV It wasn't us, we were all outside smoking trees Where's my phone? I'm gonna call the fucking cops Aw, fuck

hollow Who can blame a woman like her, singular parent One love already dissolved and the solution left polluted Two kids with a father who broke out as resoluted So fuck

choppers for who lost, kill a nigga, we just might Bitch niggaz get left flat, like a flat rat in the street Abunch of young head spliters, like K.C. and B.G. Fuck

me correct I caught her under the Christmas tree Young Hov ain't have no pops Thank God, man, I had the block Ya'll hear me though You young fucks got