Samurai’s of Homicide Tha God Fahim (Ft. Kungg Fuu)
"Samurai’s of Homicide" by Tha God Fahim (Ft. Kungg Fuu) is a gritty hip-hop track released in 2020. The song explores themes of resilience, street life, and the struggles of survival, using samurai imagery to symbolize strength and honor in the face of adversity. The lyrics convey a raw narrative of violence and loyalty within urban environments. Musically, it features heavy beats and intricate wordplay, showcasing the artists' lyrical prowess. Its cultural impact lies in its reflection of contemporary hip-hop's blend of art and reality. #HipHop
[Intro: Tha God Fahim]
This nigga Kungg Fuu [?]
It's fucked up, [?] y'nah'mean? [?]
Y'nah'mean? Check me
Fuck [?], uh
[Verse 1: Tha God Fahim]
Ayo, I speak with a tongue of darkness
War got me traumatized, your death is harmonized
From samurais of homicide
Ice-pickin' like the Rocky Mountains
I take the cash, then I'm fuckin' bouncin'; none could amount to the
Fly Dracula, I keep the steel, come in attackin' ya
Subtractin' ya, rusty battleaxes rest in the Acura
Raw vernacular, catchin' you slippin', then I'm cappin' ya
Bullets passin' ya, shut down your whole cardiovascular
There's action then there's consequence, crime and punishment
Steal from the weak, atomic bombs placed in your covenant
So what's your occupation? Speculatin' with my congregation
Twelve-gauge in the mouth of Satan
Pistol grip, spittin' the translation
Seein' vacant, and that's just how the world goes
I shot one, he froze, left bloodstains all on that nigga clothes
Lord knows
[Verse 2: Kungg Fuu]
Ayo, I came in the game with grenades
So what you think was gon' happen?
Put you faggots in graves with no case
Talkin' all that tough shit? Get your tongue cut out
You said you was gangsta, but you wearin' a blouse
Four shots have brain particles on the couch from the
Dirty Ruger; I don't know who's shootin'
Homicide investigatin' and speculatin'
'Cause a nigga be out, no vacation, temptation, the
Executioner, it's kamikaze on you weak souls, my foes
Could catch the wrath of a twelve-gauge blow
In your bushes, late night on that grimy shit
I'm just a east side nigga with the grimiest
I might black out, smack you with the Heineken
Bottle while watchin' ESPN, this hoe E-S bien
Eternally smash then passed down at the Cash Cow
Cash flow like Ace
Crowbar attempt the safe, if that don't work
Then I'm pistol-whippin' faces, suffocatin'
All these wack rappers, more food on the platter
It's Kungg Fuu
This nigga Kungg Fuu [?]
It's fucked up, [?] y'nah'mean? [?]
Y'nah'mean? Check me
Fuck [?], uh
[Verse 1: Tha God Fahim]
Ayo, I speak with a tongue of darkness
War got me traumatized, your death is harmonized
From samurais of homicide
Ice-pickin' like the Rocky Mountains
I take the cash, then I'm fuckin' bouncin'; none could amount to the
Fly Dracula, I keep the steel, come in attackin' ya
Subtractin' ya, rusty battleaxes rest in the Acura
Raw vernacular, catchin' you slippin', then I'm cappin' ya
Bullets passin' ya, shut down your whole cardiovascular
There's action then there's consequence, crime and punishment
Steal from the weak, atomic bombs placed in your covenant
So what's your occupation? Speculatin' with my congregation
Twelve-gauge in the mouth of Satan
Pistol grip, spittin' the translation
Seein' vacant, and that's just how the world goes
I shot one, he froze, left bloodstains all on that nigga clothes
Lord knows
[Verse 2: Kungg Fuu]
Ayo, I came in the game with grenades
So what you think was gon' happen?
Put you faggots in graves with no case
Talkin' all that tough shit? Get your tongue cut out
You said you was gangsta, but you wearin' a blouse
Four shots have brain particles on the couch from the
Dirty Ruger; I don't know who's shootin'
Homicide investigatin' and speculatin'
'Cause a nigga be out, no vacation, temptation, the
Executioner, it's kamikaze on you weak souls, my foes
Could catch the wrath of a twelve-gauge blow
In your bushes, late night on that grimy shit
I'm just a east side nigga with the grimiest
I might black out, smack you with the Heineken
Bottle while watchin' ESPN, this hoe E-S bien
Eternally smash then passed down at the Cash Cow
Cash flow like Ace
Crowbar attempt the safe, if that don't work
Then I'm pistol-whippin' faces, suffocatin'
All these wack rappers, more food on the platter
It's Kungg Fuu
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