What? Diamond, Dark Arts
Umbrella
What?
1 9
YO
Say my name with the lights on, takin’ sh#t for granted till your life gone
I walk in Hells Kitchen with my ice on, Mali Phyton (What?)
I’m bound to make a killin’ with the right song, you wanna feature with me less than a G, you got the price wrong
Two heads and three tails, the beats, see the devil in the details, level-headed, twisted metal when the CL
Use a cheat code, skip the level, got the bezel lit (Lit)
Any chance I gеt just to be real, ’cause I ain’t tryna see jail (Nеver)
Eight shots in his Jersey, spin a n#gg# like Spreewells
Rap n#gg#s beef real, get your whole train, D-Rail
Sort bizzare sh#t in my life, no D-12
Most youngans here won’t even see twelve, pull up in a V-12 (Skrr)
The seats is same color as a sea shell
But let a n#gg# reach and you gon’ see shells (Grr, grr)
Frontin’ for the females, crack a n#gg# head like he Ezel (Split)
The block was dumb lit, you had to be there (Real, had to be there)
Grab the mask, get the gloves (Hurry up, n#gg#)
We night-trap when you boys hit the club (You n#gg#s go right there)
Light package, put ’em on with the bud (Uh)
The fiend came short, I hit ’em off with a dub (All that, my n#gg#)
Ten P’s and three scales (Aha)
Compressed work, we used to get it in the mail (What? What?)
He hit a bump of his pinky nail
You hear the devil in the details
Christan Dior trench-coat, tryna ball like Disco, he got in too deep and a n#gg# died like Frisko
I’m from the other side where the killers slide like Chrisco
Homicidal with tempt, he took his shot, but he missed tho, money christo, money make sure my Tommy fit dope
My whole closet smellin’ like cookie, not the bisco’
Rap Larrys a Biscope, lynch ropes turn to neck-ties, never look a snake in the eyes, (Hiss) they give me death vibes
My gun going “Boom-boom-boom-boom” call it Westside (Westside)
You on the west wing with doctor standin’ by your bed side
Beef I never let slide, Blame Broyale, let the Scat fly
We all about the Static like Selektah (Grr)
What?
Grab the mask, get the gloves (Hurry up, n#gg#)
We night-trap when you boys hit the club (You n#gg#s go right there)
Light package, put ’em on with the bud
The fiend came short, I hit ’em off with a dub (All that, my n#gg#)
Ten P’s and three scales (‘Cales)
Compressed work, we used to get it in the mail (What? What?)
He hit a bump of his pinky nail (Aha)
You hear the devil in the details (What?)
Bangkok 2, n#gg#
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Mickey Diamond Lyrics – Devils In The Details