Kill Em Dead J.R. Writer (Ft. Lloyd Banks)

[Hook - JR Writer]
I get the bread while you in the red
I be getting fed, and you be getting Fed
Player-hater it's the truth: I've been ahead
Yellow paper in the booth: I kill em dead

Forget the fighting, that nigga down to front?
He getting hella-lightning popping out the trunk
Let him think he Tyson, fuck around and jump
I've got my liquor license; how many ways you want?
I'll led the K spray, tell em niggas make way
Before I street sweep his ass and get on my K Slay
Let him trip; I pull it then it's May Day
I'm from the Knick, but my bullets stay in AK
I don't play-play when it's pay day
We'll take so many shots you'll need to go to AA
Take a vacay, put me in your stupid flow
We'll have the funeral right there at the studio
When I clap and I spray, caps in the K like ?
Happen to play, clashing with J I'll put you
With ? to back in the day
Hey, you cats in the way
I don't give a fuck what you happen to say
I kill em, kill em, kill em dead
? in his grave