En orange ce sont mes préférées.


I put you up on the IV, not the Roman Numeral 4
But the IV that leads to the funeral floor



Use a pipe bomb
Downtown Israeli boutiques full of dead tourists
With they dreams no longer in arms’ reach
That’s what I call ‘dealing with calm speech’

(Chief Kamachi)


Aimed at your door but hit your head, shot your locks off

I heard you was afraid to say my name on your record
Cause you’s afraid I’d put your motherfucking frame on a stretcher
I can’t change laws sons, that’s a government issue
But I’ll break laws with a gun, that’s a government issue

(Celph Titled)


My gun attach to my hip like a siamese twin

(Reef The Lost Cauze)


I won’t ever cheat on my bitch
But I’ll still sleep with a Luger

You can see my reflection in the chrome it stays blazing
I guess my gangsta’s all smoke and mirrors

Kidnap you in the basement with hatchets and cleavers
So every time after that you hearin the Wu-Tang Torture skit
And you havin a seizure

Fuck your street cred I’ll turn your street red

You might arrive in a stretch limo tinted out
But you’ll leave on a stretcher linen with no mouth
Neck broken and ribs stickin out!

I wish a motherfucker would yap their lips
Cause if I rap or load a clip
Either way that you look at it
A mack’s about to spit

Can’t say hi to my neighbors cause I might wave a gun

My shots always hit their target after the smoke sprays
Cause we store bullets in cat shelters so theres no strays

(Celph Titled)


The illest of all sorts, we spit that fire motherfucker
To leave you lookin like dude on the « Legacy of Blood » cover

I’ll have you wrapped in plastic
Just like the food in fruit baskets
I’ll have your crew in suit jackets
All sad when viewing the casket



No alcohol in your system, but you’ll be feelin’ the shots

(Celph Titled)


I was buildin’ the walls of hell way before the flames came

And bitches love me with a MAC-11
Tellin’ the police sketch artist I look like Jon B. with a deadly weapon

Aimin’ the cannon to blast you where you standin’
You could be in Montana campin’, but your head’ll land in the Hamptons

Won’t grin for the camera when you clickin’ it at me
But I’ll smile with a gun in my hand, I’m trigger happy

(Celph Titled)


Turn a Vinnie Diesel to a skinny weasel



It’s the Army, cocksuckers, get it correct
Or y’all can find sharp things straight embedded in necks

(Crypt The Warchild)


I could talk bitches out of they jeans
Gold diggers out of they cream
Little wannabe rap motherfuckers out of they dreams

My thoughts are heavy, the weight alone could fracture your spine



No gats, no clips, why you rockin’ that watch still?
Only archeologists check for iced-out Fossils



So when approachin’ bring your best shit wit you
When I break it down you can take the rest with you word

(King Size)


Yeah this is bars of death, we merkin’ everybody God is next

(Vinnie Paz)


Fuck a hummer, Vinnie Pazienza driving a hearse

(Vinnie Paz)


Fuck around with the Army and get a split wig
Like Santa Claus, bringing gifts to a crips’ crib



Shoot your mother at your funeral
She fell in the casket, how convenient is that shit?

And I won’t say I’m the best since Rakim and Pac and them
Better yet, I’m the best since Mozart & Bach and them

(Celph Titled)


Yo you better tell cuz’
To rely on M-16s (Em d’Eminem) like D-12 does



I’m blazing hot, open my mouth, flames come out
Youse a snitch open your mouth, and names come out

I do the work of the devil, I’m a +hell of a guy+

Unload the MP5 and leave your studio sprayed
And have blood squirting out ya head like Coolio’s braids

(Celph Titled)


If this industry’s a movie I’m the starring actor
You’re an assistant for the intern of the back-up gaffer
But I’m only a rapper standing on two feet
Backstage with four whores on all fours
And that’s on all tours

You do the math I did the math teacher

(Celph Titled)


Faites tourner !