What if you where a Hit man... Tell a story.. Or drop a few bars.. or go all out...

Discussion in 'Cypher' started by 6ftground, May 13, 2006.

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  1. 6ftground


    Jun 22, 2003
    Drop a few bars or go all oout tell "n" us about your Hit man life..be creative..People..Lets Go!

    You can catch me on channel 12
    come n through your fears,
    stare at the horror scene, see me right there?,
    You can catch me in horror or sci-fi flix,
    I got hooks so fatal, that can you label
    me candy man,
    yes I am, sand man and the boogie man
    I’m tied all in one fam,
    I’m the hoax in man,
    A Steven king novel, I am
    John Gotti with a smokey gun in hand
    I’ll grab ya soul like death,
    taunt you like son of sam
    take “n” you to heaven or to the flames sin
    Now you see in the mind of a hit man....
  2. Sir Bustalot

    Sir Bustalot I am Jesus

    Feb 3, 2002
    he sparked a spliff, the zippo revealing his face
    and handed the man a card, he flipped it - the card was an ace
    looked up into a cloud of smoke in the form of a panther
    and the cat whispered a problem and told the formulas answer
    in an instant the mans soul was ripped into pieces
    before his death he cried for god like he was addicted to jesus
    not a single trace but maybe some ash from his habit
    was a natural at it- ya wont see him again untill after the sabbath -
    heart black as night and it would still cast a shadow
    but he was so beyond this life he was well past the battle
    next time the demon struck the clock read 12:50
    and we can ask him about it if you wanna come ta hell wit me
  3. 6ftground


    Jun 22, 2003
    Hell naa been there and I saw Pac and Biggie
    the truth was told to me,
    Its petty like game and fifty,
    I see the shifty, they eyes and they soul haunt me
    I feel the bold in the one who holds the
    cold steel pointed at the hustler with the wicked gold grill,
    Caught em at the wrong place at the wrong time 4ril
    he pulled the trigger richer cause the diamonds was 4ril
    Paul Wall and little John 4ril
    It’s Ill in the hit mans deal, We flip mans will,
    tech and automatic, foul spats bring man to kill
    in the life of a hit man death is automatic
    I feel like a haunted attic filled with horrible memories
    Like American Haunting, you see reproductions of bodies being killed...
    I'm a shottie get "n" dump on bodies, who live ill with false will....
  4. -Alk-

    -Alk- AlkatraZ

    Mar 8, 2005
    If I was a hitman, you could catch me ridin' by, drivin' slow
    Make sure you're dyin' slow, aiming at your spine through a sniper scope
    Two shots left you dead or worse, spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair
    Attempts made on my life, all failed, cause I'm still here
    There I was, duckin bullets, chips of bricks droppin on my head
    There's no escape, the weak are first, then i'm bombin' on the rest
    Kicking and stomping on the dead, you're left battered and bruised
    I'm laughin' at you, and known for attackin' seniors, and attackin' the youth
  5. 6ftground


    Jun 22, 2003
    If I ruled the world, I be a hit man taking pictures of your every move man
    I’ll be sure I can see you close,
    face to face so I’ll still your faith,
    befriend you life, shake the hand of ya wife
    I’ll bring your daughter a orange CRUSH
    Cause later she’ll be ready and will “n” to crush
    Then for you I’ll put sleeping pills in ya martini ,
    give you cheers and watch you fall asleep off the numbing agency,
    then I’ll invite ya moms and sister over, tell em it’s a joke me over party,
    and the jokes on him ma,
    While I’m pointing at you, I got ya moms and sister drugged too,
    Sick ain’t it, don’t worry about ya fam being tainted fool,
    I’m not getting hit profits for marketing them topless,
    it’s just insurance, reassurance cause see you delinquent,
    man what was you think “n”,
    You wasn't, so now you marked...By the HITmAn
  6. 2Xtreme

    2Xtreme a.k.a. Mad Static 4:14

    Dec 7, 2004
    Beat: 50 Cent- What If

    I'm a hitman, sharp shooting niggas with words
    Half man half beast, splitting your head into thirds
    This is soprano lifestyle, I got myself a gun
    Click, clack, BOW!!!, you finished and done
    The tables bout to turn, once you cross my path
    Feel the wrath, adding up to your demise like math
    These snakes slither through the grass, awaiting attacks
    One false move, it's over, bet my life on that
    Take a look upon my reign, see through my vision
    Me as a prisoner, trapped me, myself, and I within
    The whole city is civilized, caged inside of their fear
    My position stands over them, my status premier
    Building cream through my supreme rhyme schemes
    Stealing lives through many, we livin' by the thief's theme
    You can smell the anxiety through pitches of screams
    The city is in the palms of hands of our regime
  7. 6ftground


    Jun 22, 2003
    As a hit man,
    I attack those who flip and expose,
    those who throw elbows,
    those hoes get deposed of
    with no love,
    you can catch em in chalk filled with 44 slugs
    On the back twisted watching dove flow “n” above,
    I’m a Hit man show “n” tough love
    lock and loaded, take "N" picture of a bytch,
    and send "n" em home to ya daughter punk snitch,
    It’s just another T.K.O hit
    wit ski mask and extra clips,
    I’m a hit man leaving bodies being burned,
    murderous statues of an old revenue returned,
    no come "n" back Cause I'm disemboweling niccaz,
    who be violent niccaz, it's in my contract nicca,
    I get paid to wack, while you lay back,
    smoke the weed to get ya mind back,
    I sit back analyzing ya every move,
    Contract killer style, peep "n" fools,
    attack “n” with movies so pin point ,
    Closed Caskets all up in the churches joints...
    That's howi HIT MAn...
  8. Mesha Mac

    Mesha Mac New Member

    Apr 22, 2005
    call me the hit man... excuse me hit woman if you will/
    lurking on top of buildings killing niggas for thrill/
    watching the blood spill/ all across the pavement/
    then hop in the black Suburban and collect payment/
    then make new arrangements/ to delete other existence/
    shoot em up/ then fall to my knees and pray repentance/
    at time its for a vengeance or just for another win/
    God blesses me with forgiveness/ and I'm at again/
  9. R3DRUM

    R3DRUM Capo

    Jul 13, 2005
    Slip on gloves, then reach into the glove compartment/
    Only to reveal a small, black calibur gun for targets/
    It aint for fun i bark it, its for the muuh-ney income/
    Think you can outdo this bounty? then cuum n get some/
    I luuv this spliff son, for killin its the quickest nerve calmer/
    My crimes iz hard to solve like they tricky word problems/
    Need to off some peoples? the right payment gets a yes/
    Ima sharpshooter, so they cant save their chests with vests/
    If that dont answer ya question-can i make em headless-yes...
  10. R3DRUM

    R3DRUM Capo

    Jul 13, 2005
    aint nobody comin harder than that^ hahaaaa
  11. 6ftground


    Jun 22, 2003
    It's Ok!..Nice wordplay...Lets GO!
  12. 6ftground


    Jun 22, 2003
    I creep, I never sleep,
    I cut my eyelids off to appear mystic
    I need no gloves my finger tips have no trace
    FBI can’t trace, I got no face, Call me the Ace
    I master this, calculated moves erases a bytch
    it’s a hit-mans cut, long blade, ridged edge or a switch
    IN a Hit-mans state the formality is a fatality,
    that the police can’t solve in a tv reality
    my Hits are mastery, technics flawless to a snitch or DNA clips,
    I make the hits, ballpark style, call me the Berry Bonds of hits
    24hrs couldn’t even solve my horror trips...
    I leave no trace cause I use acid bytch....
    This is how a HIT-mAN spits..
  13. 6ftground


    Jun 22, 2003
    If I was a hit man bytch,
    throats I slit,
    the parents I get,
    kids I leave em,
    cause the insurance money saves em,
    I’m sick with hits as a man,
    I’m scared of the real man,
    surreal is the make-believe kill I deal fam,
    I’m like cards, I have to get a cut
    I can spread the guts take pictures of eye’s wide, eyes shut,
    Sorry about the targets luck,
    I’m a young buck,
    buck wild “n” out hit man dreams,
    a hit man schemes, to get the dream of unlimited currencies,
    the urgencies of contracts from those who pay back for
    those who lack that, the green backs, how many bytches die for
    The currencies of a mob attack,
    Naa-- nicca they hire me for that..
    What if you was a hit man How would you strike back...
    How would you strike back...
  14. -Alk-

    -Alk- AlkatraZ

    Mar 8, 2005
    The suit and tie's not a rental, you can bet I stay actual
    All these cats get their tactics from Xbox game manuals
    I'm near-precise with sniper scopes mounted on forty fives
    Red dots across foreheads, you're bound and born to die
    I'm cruisin' in my buick, leather seats, machine gun mounts
    You haven't seen my desert eagles till you've seen em out
  15. M-theory

    M-theory Saint Esprit

    Jan 4, 2001
    Call it a contract, but it's not so much as just a blunt agreement
    A lot of cash; my motto is if the paper stacks, it's hunting season
    But I don't do it for the money reasons, shit... I'm not killing to live
    I'm living to kill... and every million I get is just a part of the thrill
    I'm a martyr who will die just to feel death if it's the card in the deal
    If there's no one left alive I'll Hit Me like a Blackjack & a lead shot
    But until that day, I'm an armed, dangerous class act you shouldn't set off
    My temper means heads off, I work for power & glory
    Fun is gory, love, amori, know my guns are telling stories
    Severed histories, this occupation needs some new blood... I wait for Sheena's birth
    My seed is worth everything to me, the only being I could never harm
    Ever calm in the meadows, long after this song, a ressurrection of St. Petersburg
    But that's confidential... just know the proportions are monumental
    A spawn of him who teaches you to become one with the monster in you
    I trained with guns & pistols, a hell of a sniper rifle
    But when I'm cunning, give victims the kiss of death while I strangle them with a fiber wire

    ¿To Be Cotinued?
  16. L-dopa

    L-dopa New Member

    Feb 6, 2006
    fuck ''what if'' man im the real mrs smith with a smith n wesson.
    leave no prints to lift.my MO keeps the likes of Grissom guessin.
    throwin lines like a fishin lesson on my history of violence,sir.
    poppin targets like bubble wrap.double tap with the silencer.
    all my hits are clean,vics leave the scene with their brain leaking dopamine.
    clip your throat and spleen from long range without the use of a scope or beam.
    then throw up a smokescreen and vanish.no mess, maximum damage.
    a mistress of disguise. Fluent in french,german,latin and spanish.
    just tell me which chap to kill and il fax the bill after ive capped his grill.
    ive done more headshots than photographers that snap for the actors guild
    so draft your will 'fore i run up in yr crib and expend the heater
    tell a friend. need a life to end?Send for Le Femme Nikita.
  17. ADOLF


    May 24, 2006
    Confessions Of A Hitman

    Time To Fly To Canada With Fuck I.d.s From Atlanta
    And Buy A Gun The Size Of A Movie Camera
    A New S.u.v. These Niggas Fuckin With Family
    So Am Hunting Down Niggas From Here To Miami
    Im Travelin Dolo, Studing Photos
    5! 4! Tated From My Wrist To My Elbows
    Now Im Looking At Ur Front Porch Holding A Blowtorch
    Crash Into Ur Shit With A Stolen Porche
    And When You Come To See Whuts Going On
    Thats When I Put The Crome On Ur Dome
    Blow Out Ur Brains Leave The Gun At The Scene
    Burn Down Ur House Then I Get Away Clean
  18. Cavalier

    Cavalier Prefered Dealer

    May 4, 2004
    What if i was a hit man, well fam ders not much to deliberate, i'd go and hit the real estate,for the nigga to eliminate/
    I'd section of his whole house, get him wire tapped, and get the 40 cal unholsted and get another cartridge fam/
    Creep up to his window with piece in my palms, wait till the street lights turn on the creep round da door/
    I'm picking in his locks like a nigga picking boogers, coulda woulda shoulda, all gone as i enter with the hood up/
    I see him reaching for another glass of water, with pistol in my hand i hit him in da shoulder, as he turned around i realized ders no muffler in the holder, so i shot him loud where he stood, and retreated to my rover/
  19. Konscious

    Konscious Resident Sage

    Aug 25, 1999
    "...and retreated to my Rover"

    i'm now seated in dover..., delaware and hella scared...
    that jake is well aware of my associate's plan
    got the toast in my hand, i should go to japan
    or hit the coast where the sand is type white as cocaine
    or take a flight wit no name, put propane in the cargo
    a fair one over key largo, i'll give it to the air marshall
    i'm hostile... 'cause i'm on the run like g rap
    told my son i'll be back, just have fun and be strapped
  20. C-Project

    C-Project The Internets

    May 2, 2006
    here's a half-song that a wrote a while back but never recorded. shit happens.

    Name on the hit list, slayin'arms that flip clips
    Gotta debt to Satan/ pay it off with a ripped fist
    Rank up to superior--blast traitors inferior
    Stealin' "Blood Money" off from the hemophiliacs

    Sabotage the vehicles of hostile ambassadors
    Car-bombs to buildings/ better hope you're fastened-sir
    Blast-the-earth, if that's the mob boss orders
    Readin' magazines of gunfire/ lives never shorter

    Snipers on top of buildings/ scopes microscopic
    Nanotechnology-/ lock-on the heat-seekin' rockets
    That hit car sprockets, assassinating engines
    Sword-like knives across necks sick like ninjas

    Modern-day killers, flesh-chested rippin'
    Shadows of the street/we call them hitmen

    Say ya prayers, we slay eight times a day
    Dead presidents' on the beach/fire on tha bay
    Door busted down to grounded wood fragments
    .45's, Mac-ten's / anyway we can whack them

    With a gat-like fashion/ cat-like crashin'
    People who don'tpay cash to gang-caches
    Breakin traffiking of medical tablets, fact-is
    I'm blowin' up freighters close to dosage maxes

    Gunfire assigned to pinpointed alignments
    Ranged objectives to make buyers die-deaths
    A toxic contract of lethal tasks, son
    Target Sighted: Death in 3,2, and 1

    All for the money, it's a dangerous business
    Martial art-like roundhouse kicks leave you ribless
    Self-offensive senses to test opposing-/
    Defenses enclosing of the brain's coping

    Psychological poison, call it street warfare
    Slaughter of traitors who lay a cold-stare
    Circumvation/ time to burn-the-nation
    Adrenaline super-charged, surgin', pacin'
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