Manslaughter lyrics

Artist  : Epmd 
Song : Manslaughter
 

[PMD] Manslaughter (repeat 4X)

Verse One: Erick Sermon

Code name E-D, check on the one two three
Black male hard MC
Rap record slave, a brother on the scene
with a machine gun and one magazine
Wanted, a half a million for the body alone
Two million for the microphone
If you see him, dial 5 dash slayer
A hotline to the governor and mayor
He`s armed wit ammo, a weapon that`s mine
All black in rap, strap tech nine
Silencer clipped, check the rip on the sneak tip
The boy`s about ta flip

Manslaughter (repeat 2X)
They call him manslaughter
Manslaughter

Verse Two: PMD

Code name MD, rappin fanatic
No short taken, black Asiatic
Hit man, keeps my belt unbuckled
Book a look on my grill with no signs of a
chuckle
Or laughter, cause my name ain`t Casper
The Friendly Ghost, but I smoke an MC if I have
to
Quick fast like Alakazoo, Alakazam
And I`ll be damned, cuz my rhymes slam like
Bam-Bam
Rubble, partner code name is E-Double
It`s those hazel green eyes that keep my man in
trouble
Girls ride the tip, brothers on his sac
I had to change my name to Bruce Wayne, also
known as Bat-
Man, and grab the bozack wit this hand
As I slay ya manslaughter

Manslaughter
They call him manslaughter
Manslaughter

Verse Three: Erick Sermon

Mad man fully strapped and I quote
Don`t flex, last chump who did, he got smoked
Undercover, not D-T but E-D
And wonder why you`re spinning my records on
thirty-three
I`m the original, never did crime, I`m no
criminal
No static, pack a forty-five automatic
Black cat strapped in rap, holding my Johnson
Walking the streets, a vigilante Charles Bronson
As the beat kick, face his plate on the M1 done
Style`s sharper than the blade in Shogun
First suckers disrupt the brain of a sucker MC
That can`t count one two three
I manage to damage, I roast the whole membrane
Insane, like a basehead doing cocaine
I kill a farmer, plus his daughter
Cause I`m the E-Double, and this is manslaughter

They call us manslaughter
They call it manslaughter
Manslaughter

Verse Four: PMD

As I stare deep into the mirror, I could only
resort
To a hardcore gangsta, penile train of thought
You`re stomped out, you`re beat down, you go big
top shit
Run your trunk jewels or get, pistol whipped
Cause I`m too swift to slip or miss a stitch on
my rap hit
Sleep on a sucker and you still can`t get with
me bro, wit this flow and I don`t know Judo
Gunflow is my style, say this so that you know
There`s no time to dance or romance with a
nuisance
Play ya like a puppet to put some lead in ya
pants
Then off you go to the rap rat pack
Be stripped of your mic, punk on your head we
stamped bozack
That`s what the doctor ordered
Take two of these, dead, manslaughter

They call it manslaughter
They call it manslaughter
Manslaughter
To the farmer and his daughter, manslaughter