Made You Look lyrics

[Intro]
It's time to bring the classic rap sh*t back, muh'f*cka
Yo

[Verse 1]
Journey through the dark side, get the f*ck up!
Made you look, kill your darlings in cold blood
Let the beat play, know who am I, punk?
Gritty voice, friend or foe, say the name, c*nt!
This a young Krane, mad and reckless
I beat the sh*t out your piñata, choke my Nikes with necklace
You missed the hardcore sh*t? I was yet to come
'Cause I didn't have the license to my f*cking guns, uh
Infinite amount of rounds in this mighty pen
Skipped a year, needed time to f*cking comprehend
I'm not a scream king, f*ck it, I just move in silence
Get my di*k sucked and calm myself with the violence
Who the f*ck run it? Triple 6 God
I'm so indie I don't need your help with whipsaw
I want to slit your wrists, I want to cut my face
So that I have a chance to duplicate the Scarface
I don't flush my kids in toilet in despair
Beat the sh*t out your loved ones, let 'em bleed there
Ultraviolent saga, Alex, high-five
Not the triple X bullsh*t, this is my life
[Hook: Nas (x2)]
They shootin'! Aw, made you look
You a slave to a page in my rhyme book
Gettin' big money, playboy, your time's up
Where them gangsters at? Where them dimes at?

[Verse 2]
Work hard, play hard, this a f*cking motto
Hustle hard everyday saying f*ck to problems
No rest for the wicked, if my time is money
Then I have to break your back in second to fill up my tummy
I gotta eat, motherf*cker, that's why I'm ready for
Whatever it takes to get this cash, even start a war
f*ck the civilian b*tches, they ain't sh*t for me
I'm like new Adolf Mengele, I have to cut that foreign
I'm not a fan of writing and I'm scared of ghosts
Guess how anxious I become when I mix these words?
The walls are closing in, paranoia never sleeps
I bash my head with the radio and become a creep
There goes another pill, f*ck responsibility
I don't get respect on streets, that is f*cking killing me
Ain't got no hood mentor but all the f*cking bets on me
Mastermind at its finest, feel this f*cking heat!

[Hook: Nas (x2)]
They shootin'! Aw, made you look
You a slave to a page in my rhyme book
Gettin' big money, playboy, your time's up
Where them gangsters at? Where them dimes at?