Luke Gawne - Hell To Pay (feat. Crooked I & Craig Owens)

LUKE GAWNE


Hell To Pay Lyrics (feat. Crooked I & Craig Owens)



[Verse One: Luke Gawne]
I swore to the G.O.D, I was finna get mine
'Cause Momma you done made it out Chicago's west side
Ho ho Momma let's ride, we roll Bonnie and Clyde
I ain't going out quiet
Got time on my left wrist
God on my right but I'm out of my right mind, so be quiet
And don't ask what I'm rapping for this shit is personal
My momma gon' live in the Hollywood Hills 'fore she gets to the nursin' home
'Cause name 5 Emcees in the game right now who could take me down
I'll wait, Crooked, we might just have to give 'em the rhythm that they came for now
When I hit 'em with the pro tank
Profane flow, til' the propane flame goes out
Until then I'm the rap godzilla
Miraculous, I'm coming to take the president down
Cause I came for the most hateful, cave troll
In the white house of an AWOL and his wife with an a-hole
Women say no but he won't stop grabbing the pussy by the handful
The man knows that he can't lose at a few scandals
When Vladimir Putin is handing 'em
Wikileaks used to advantage the spirit in Hillary puttin' that nail through the casket and
And it's a freaking apparent this country is reaching a point
Of combustion, but faith in humanity's practically vanishing
Conservative values have died, they're inanimate
And liberals are panickin'
Turn into pussies, they packin' they bags up and moving to Canada
Canada! You motherf**kers ain't really man enough
How'd I give a f**k? I'm never runnin' for nothin'
Even if Donald's got the nukes and he's coming for everybody
In the opposition, I'ma beat it, open up a can of the whoopee
I'm whooping the mag cause I'm not a man
I'm a legend, I wreck it
My records are breakin' every single record on the man and
The second the world ain't ready for the return of the
Mic murderin' menace I hurt 'em and burn 'em
I'm pennin' the word of the minute so call him a medic with anesthetic
Before they turnin' to someone you never heard of
Pathetic, at first I was headed for heaven
But the devil said I'd be better never repentin' for my pen
Again when the venom is venerable I'm too f**kin' incredible
Unbiteable flow, it is inedible
My legible, my decibels and trebles are impeccable
One flip of the rap and kickin' it back to the momentum
I first had it when I was entering my zone
Whoa, look at the show, Luke Gawne, Crooked I and Craig O
You probably thought I was gonna slaughter every syllable
But i'm rippin' em, the best when I'm making it spit it bitch i'm limitless
Yo!

[Hook: Craig Owens]
Walking on with thoughts of redemption
Plotting through my head, voices said speak of division
Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay
Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay
Vision perfect fantasy is in
Rotten to a dead voices spread nobody listen
Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay
Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay
Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay
Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay

[Verse 2: KXNG Crooked]
Everybody worry about they guns in the second amendment, end it
My nigga I'ma tell you in advance
You want America to ban every weapon invented
Just put a gun in a real nigga's hands
'Cause me holdin' steel wasn't built in the plans
Elephant in a room I'ma poacher (shot!)
Still live in a womb I'ma smoke ya
Veteran in a mood I'ma choke ya
Even if you're ill with your hands
You still getting killed it don't matter
When a shooter go bananas in Nevada shooting outta the window at the Mandalay bay like he had a McCain
He sprayin' the crowd shattered and the data
Don't add up more than 58, dead
Conspiracy theorists sayin' they really ain't dead
But tell that to the motherf**ker laying on the ground
With his brain matter splattered head shattered on a platter
From the automatic ratata-tata that'll
Make you change everything in your mind frame when the time came
Dealer roof, let his nine aim
Walk into the church, turn that shit into a fire range
Squeezin' on the deacon til' his mind hangs, sideways
Nine slain, cries, pain, eyes drain, lies blame
How do I explain hatred to a underage kid
Who's parents got their lives claimed by a killer
That the coppers got a whopper for at the Burger King
After the murder scene, they don't give a f**k if we all die
Doin' a copper like an Eazy-E walk-by
Slaughterhouse logo pig gettin' hogtied
Fall guy, cause all I'm seein' is you devils bein' greedy for dineros
But you f**kin' with a pharaoh, I'm the builder of the pyramid monument, my eye's on top of it
I'm all eyes seein', like Horus
All I ever needed was a chorus, the shit that get 'em hooked from Philly to Middlebrook
These killers shook, you're lookin' at Crooked you're lookin' at a book
Crook is a thesaurus, godlike being
This industry is full of shady -isms, they be in a favouritism, take a listen
Lyric disciple, I wrote the lyrical bible
Whoever said he did it, I'ma call it plagiarism, they was into Atheism
Paganism, Satanism - wait a minute
Pay the menace great attention, haters pissin', they be trippin'
They be listin' crazy spittin', daily rhythms, eighty bit 'em
They don't like I play the chicken
Players stick 'im for the blatant haterism
Say the mission ain't a mission if the lyricism
Isn't a main event when I'm paintin' pictures
You f**kin' with a verbal gun clapper, I hunt rappers
I gun smoke blunt rappers quicker than your blazin' swisha

[Hook: Craig Owens]
Walking on the thoughts of Redemption
Plotting through my head, voices said speak of division
Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay
Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay
Vision perfect fantasy is in
Rotten to a dead voices spread, nobody listen
Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay
Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay
Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay
Oh, whoa, oh whoa, there'll be hell to pay

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Songwriter(s): GAWNE, Crooked I, Craig Owens
Record Label(s): 2018 Luke Gawne
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