Prod Blunt Christ 
Mix & Mastered by @aragoth.die
Cover: Blackwill
featuring https://soundcloud.com/blvckwill

(LYRICS)

PROPHET:
Get the fuck outta my face
Bitch I’m filled up with this rage 
something i cannot contain 
all of these years worth of pain 
I broke myself out the cage 
new chapter I’m turning the page 
always gripping on the blade 
All I know is decimate 
All I know is terminate 
Tried to save me it’s too late 
Now I’m digging up my grave 
Living this life is so vague 
Prophet I’m spreading the plague 
You’ll all remember my name 
Don’t speak on my name if in vain 
Turn me to ashes cremated remains 
I am an alien 
whole different race 
Thats why I could never break 
Thats why I won’t ever change 
& remain the same

Man it gets hard to live every day
Write down your name seal the fate 
I see through all of the fakes 
Ducking & dodging i run from the jakes 
I’m in control of my fate 
If I want it I got it 
you know Imma take 
Take a few pills
& now I'm feeling great 
Used to hit licks
to put food on my plate 

BLACKWILL:
SIX FEET DEEP NOW TWELVE FEET UNDER
YOU ARE MY PREY AND I AM THE HUNTER
PRAYING FOR PLAGUES
I WILL ANSWER WITH THUNDER 
UTTER DESTRUCTION MY MOTTO IS
SUNDER, DIVIDE AND THEN CONQUER
NONE OF YOU BITCHES CAN HIDE FROM THE SWARM
I GOT YOUR BITCH LEAKING WHEN I PERFORM
I AM A BEAST BOY I TAKE DIFFERENT FORMS
SHE KNOW I’M THE ONI SHE PULL ON MY HORNS
I AM NEVER HITTING THE BRAKES
SWERVE ON THESE PUSSIES
NOT TAKING NO BREAKS
BLACKWILL AND PROPHET 
WE TARGET THE SNAKES
POCKET THE ROCKET
HIS CORPSE DOWN THE LAKE
OH!
THE CHOPPA AINT GOT NO DELAY
STEP ON YOUR HEAD 
AND THEN LEAVE YOU ASTRAY
SMOKING THESE OPP IN MY STRAIN
THE TAG TEAM WE MAKING IT RAIN
REIGN OF THE PAIN
UNDERTAKER AND KANE

PROPHET X BLACKWILL - KILLING SPREE 2

TO THE MOON! FT. IKNOWSTAR67 [prod. kidshorty]

prod vince.m10
Mix & Mastered by @aragoth.die
Cover: https://www.instagram.com/gekxta/

LYRICS:
I’m sipping on wok 
While you sip on robatussin 
Imma kill a mutha fucka
& there’s no discussion 
imma leave his bloody body
looking so disgusting 
I been doing this so long 
That it really ain’t nothing 

B-B-Break inside yo home 
And you know that I’m clutching 
We can get it brackin
And that choppa starts bussin’
Had to put my phone on don’t disturb 
it keeps buzzing 
gotta be a custy 
Maybe it’s yo bitch or something 

you don’t fucking know me 
So stop making yo assumptions 
catch you at the show 
And I’m dumping with a hunnid 
All these chopper’s on me 
Got that pussy boy running 
Put a hole Inside his body 
size of a Funyun

Tuck it 
Up it 
Fuck it 
Bust it x8

Choppa Alabama 
The way its fucking yo cousin
Got long guns like a musket 
Blowing shit like a trumpet
Bitch I’m tired of yo fussing 
F-F-Fuck these stupid hoes
All that shit Im never trusting 
Leave everybody dead 
like “no Russian”

Beat his brains in like concussion 
Man I’m always up to something 
Brand new grills I’m looking stunning 
Sit and wait for prey like hunting 
Kick his head in like I’m punting 
Breaking limbs I love the crunching 
Imma break em til they’re crumbling 
Load up slugs & then I’m pumping 
Bust his head apart like pumpkins 
Talking hot then imma slump him 
Turn my music up I’m bumpin
Speak up pussy stop the mumbling 
get the bag that you keep fumbling 
I’m still hungry for this shit 
so my stomach keeps on rumbling 

Tuck it 
Up it 
Fuck it 
Bust it x8

I’m sipping on wok 
While you sip on robatussin 
Imma kill a mutha fucka
& there’s no discussion 
imma leave his bloody body
looking so disgusting 
I been doing this so long 
That it really ain’t nothing x2

TUCK IT, UP IT

Prod pxlsdead
Mix & Mastered by @aragoth.die
Cover: Zack Dunn

(LYRICS)

PROPHET:
Extended clips
on some movie shit 
Red beam to his head 
now he shivering 
Imma eat his raw organs 
like the liver king 
Imma stomp a bitch out 
In my timberlines 
Get too much pussy 
I could never simp 
Certified pimp 
walk with a limp 
Got so much money
that I swim in it 
Smoking like I have no 
Fucking limit bitch 

roll another blunt 
all gas 
no spliffs 
Shots to his top
And his wig 
got split 
Slit wrists 
in the bedroom 
let it drip 
Breaking through the back 
Now we’re in yo crib 
556 
goes through yo ribs 
Imma hit his face 
with hollow tips 
Beam on the stick 
So I cannot miss 
Fuck the cops 
Im yelling kill all pigs 

(roll another blunt 
all gas 
no spliffs 
Shots to his top
And his wig 
got split 
Slit wrists 
in the bedroom 
let it drip 
Breaking through the back 
Now we’re in yo crib 
556 
goes through yo ribs 
Imma hit his face 
with hollow tips 
Beam on the stick 
So I cannot miss 
Fuck the cops 
Im yelling kill all pigs)

MILITXNT:
Run it hit it spit it with the motherfucking blade up in my pocket u ain’t living 
fighting with the devil he keep hissing got the bullet right beside me I ain’t missing 
I got blood up in my throat I keep on spitting 
I’m gonna run it up 
im gonna fuck it up
taking your life better give it up 
so many bullets I spread it up
blood in my throat gonna cough it up 
feeling like shit
talking to demons it’s making me sick 
coming for you I don’t pick 
light up and smoke him then flick 
I got my blick dance on your grave take a piss 
Glock 19 wit a beam ready scheme 
gang right bedside me we making a scene 
sipping the blood im a feen 
knife to his head imma cut it off clean


roll another blunt 
all gas 
no spliffs 
Shots to his top
And his wig 
got split 
Slit wrists 
in the bedroom 
let it drip 
Breaking through the back 
Now we’re in yo crib 
556 
goes through yo ribs 
Imma hit his face 
with hollow tips 
Beam on the stick 
So I cannot miss 
Fuck the cops 
Im yelling kill all pigs 


roll another blunt 
all gas 
no spliffs 
Shots to his top
And his wig 
got split 
Slit wrists 
in the bedroom 
let it drip 
Breaking through the back 
Now we’re in yo crib

PROPHET X MILITXNT - ISOLATE

PROD YUNG RIPPER
Mix & Mastered by @aragoth.die
Cover: @savagewav

Lyrics:
Pussy mutha fucka wanna talk back 
Gripping the Glock 
and Imma aim where his top at 
Swinging the blade 
Imma take off his top half 
Fully automatic 
and I’m dumping a whole mag 
Leave him face down in the mud 
with a toe tag
Ripping off his face 
& that shit is a new mask
Rolling up a blunt 
& I’m taking a fat drag 
Drive by the opps 
Putting shots in the mini van 
Ughhh

Mask on my face 
For the Underground Taliban 
Steel out the window 
With beams like I’m iron man 
Wish you could see
How they hopped out and fucking ran 
Im always high
And I’m hoping I never land 
I feel so crazy 
When I got a gun in hand 
You can’t escape me 
not even a single chance 
Satanic rituals 
everyone saying chants 
Under the moon
& I’m doing a voodoo dance 
Best look away 
Cuz if not you get in a trance 
I smell the fear in the soul 
Corrupt innocence 
Caught a few bodies 
Was careful with evidence
Bitch I’m 10 toes in
whatever I’m stepping in 
I did some shit In my life you can’t comprehend 
Poison tip bullets 
I feel like a copperhead 
Whipping the V turn around
I see cops ahead 
Fucking with me and 
you’ll end up without a head 
Left in a ditch and get 
thrown in a endless trench 
Feds tryna find me 
so I’m jumping every fence 
Show up in the dark 
for your soul like an enderman 
Lurk in the woods 
Got me feeling like slenderman 
Everyone’s 2 faced 
Im calling em Harvey dent 
Look on my face 
There’s a grin thats so menacing
I lose my mind 
when I stop taking medicine 
Kill for thrill 
cuz I love the adrenaline 
Blood on my blade 
Is just truly so pleasuring

POISON

PROD BLUNT CHRIST
Mix & Mastered by @aragoth.die
Cover by: https://www.instagram.com/sathvriel

(LYRICS)
PROPHET:
Rollin smoking I got potent 
Pass the blunt keep it in motion 
Pour the wock up like it’s potion 
Got these baddies that I’m ghosting 
Cuz I know they’re out here hoeing 
get em wetter than the ocean 
Cuz they know the prophets toting 
Like a river got em flowing 
Spread her legs and keep em open 
Pound the pussy leave it swolen
I want head there’s no eloping 
always knew that I was chosen 
Junkies round me overdosing 
I don’t care my heart is frozen 
Do a show while out in Poland 
Sell it out and keep on going 

I had to get in my bag 
Head to the bank 
& never look back 
Selling the pack
Staying on track 
I got the gat
brains on the mat 
That is wrap 
So many guns 
Like i live in Iraq 
Gunning em down 
They’re under attack 
I got a missile 
I feel like a tank 
Imma street general
That is my rank 
Rolling up sticky
Im smoking on stank 
Puffin on cookies 
I love all the dank 
You’ll never get me 
I’m out the gang 
Moving like g’s 
& talking in slang 
Talking on gang 
And you’re getting slain 
Promise I’ll make you remember the name 
It’s prophet to the fucking grave!

MILITXNT:
Nothing in my pocket cus I’m always spending shit popping pills I’m feelings sick  feelings like a woozy bitch got me feeling like a lunatic I’m always in the pit 

always feeling like a junkie yeah I need to take a sip 

I need to chill I need a pill I’m feeling ill feelings like I’m dying with a plan to spill a kill aye 

I’m dying out of anger hit that bitch up with the hammer pick him up and hit the slammer hit ya mouth correct ya grammar 

Popping like a rocket bouta take what in ya pocket Glock up in ya eye it’s out ya motherfucking  socket 

stop looking at Glock I’m bout to drop u on ya top 30 rounds will leave u shocked boutta hit up on ya block never fucking with the opps spill the blood up on ya socks smelling gas u hear a pop boutta blow that fucking shot

PROPHET X MILITXNT - 30 ROUND'S

PROD VINCE.M10
Cover: https://www.instagram.com/gekxta/
Mix & Mastered by @aragoth.die

Lyrics:
Fuck all the rats 
Tryna to take my cheese 
I get the bag with ease 
All bout the money the green
I don’t smoke pack with seeds
Only that gas for me
Backwoods Russian crème
roll it up in a leaf 
Lace the blunt watch em tweak 
Sippin dirty not clean 
I’m the plug usb
green dot for the beam 
Hit em up watch em lean
Cut em up watch em leak 
I get rough I get mean 
Taking out enemies 
No one fucks with a G 
Bloodied up throwing b’s 
I can’t fuck with a treesh 
Some hoes need a leash 
Hit it once and I leave 
Knife play imma freak 
Leave blood on the scene 
Got blood on her sheets 
Imma get what I need 
letting my demons feed 
masked up Halloween 
Aim for the head not feet 
Face shot he can’t speak 
Terminate all the weak 
letting my choppa eat 
Now rest in peace 
Turn to a butcher 
when it comes to beef 
Stomp on his skull
& I pull out his teeth 
Knife on my side 
& it’s tucked in a sheath 
Pull it out 
Slaughtering all of the sheep 
Tie up the rope 
Now he’s hanging from feet 
Stabbing the body 
& watching em bleed 
Axe in my hand 
Got me feeling like creep 
On the block with a mop
& I’m doing a sweep
Got a taste for the kill 
Now I’m bout to feast 
All my mutha fucking opps smoke pcp 
Like baki they all wanna taste defeat 
& i won’t stop killing til my goals complete 
Imma body bag a fag
While they put out a tweet 
Imma get you in the night
while you’re sound asleep 
I won’t even make a sound 
Not even a peep 
at the top of my life 
It’s not even the peak 
Cooking up in the booth 
I got the recipe 
All this money on me
Like I’m a treasury 
You committed great sin 
And that shits treachery 
Imma finish what you started 
And that’s called destiny 
Y’all are sleeping on me
You must be counting up sheep
All y’all counted me out 
& now you’re riding my meat 
I just had to go harder
For this shit to complete

NO TRACE

Young Overdue - TRACK THEM DOWN ft. Trist B

DEMONS (feat. TRIST B)

TrickWitTreats X Trist B - DEVOUR (prod. Numb$kull)

You Are Now Listening To The Official Audio of Trist B's "WHAT DO YOU FEEL?"

This Beat was Produced by fewtile
The Lyrics Performed In This Song are Written & Owned by TristB

Copyright February 29, 2020 MASKED ENTITY ENTERTAINMENT ©
I DO HAVE THE PROPER LICENSING AGREEMENTS NEEDED TO PLAY THIS MUSIC WITH OR WITHOUT MONETIZATION!

- Hello, everyone! TristB. If you enjoy what you're hearing, PLEASE do not hesitate to leave a QUICK Like, Comment, Subscription, & Don't Forget to SHARE!!!

WHVT DX YXU F33L? (Prod. fewtile)

“ᴛʀɪꜱᴛ ʙ” ᴏɴ ᴀʟʟ ᴘʟᴀᴛꜰᴏʀᴍꜱ! ꜰᴇᴀꜱᴛ.

———————————————

ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀᴛᴛʟɪɴɢ ᴇᴄʜᴏᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʙᴀɴᴅᴏɴᴇᴅ & ᴅᴇᴄᴀʏɪɴɢ ʜᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴄᴀɢᴇꜱ; ᴀ ᴍᴀʟᴇᴠᴏʟᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀᴄᴀʙʀᴇ ᴍᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ ᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ ʜᴀᴜɴᴛꜱ & ᴛᴇʀʀᴏʀɪᴢᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴅᴇꜱᴏʟᴀᴛᴇ ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅꜱ. 

ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡɪᴅᴇʟʏ ꜰᴇᴀʀᴇᴅ ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛʀᴇ ꜱᴄᴀᴘᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴄʀᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ, ᴇᴇʀɪᴇ ᴡᴏᴏᴅʟᴀɴᴅꜱ, ꜱᴄᴀᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ɪɴ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ꜱɪɢʜᴛ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴠɪᴄᴛɪᴍꜱ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴀɴ ᴜɴɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪꜰɪᴀʙʟᴇ, ʜᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴄᴀʀᴄᴀꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴀʟɪᴄɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ ꜰᴇᴇᴅꜱ ᴏɴ ꜰᴇᴀʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴇᴀꜱᴛꜱ ᴏɴ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ꜰʟᴇꜱʜ & ʙᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴀʀʀᴏᴡ. ᴡɪᴛʜ ɴᴏ ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴇᴠɪʟ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴍᴀᴛᴇꜱ ᴀɴʏ ꜰᴏʀᴍ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴜʀɪᴛʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴀʀᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴇᴘ ɪɴᴛᴏ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ʀᴜɪɴᴏᴜꜱ ᴠᴏɪᴅ. 

ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀɪɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ ᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ ʀᴏʟʟꜱ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴠɪᴄᴛɪᴍ’ꜱ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅʏ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴꜱ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇᴅ ᴡᴏᴏᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴᴄɪᴇɴᴛ ᴏᴀᴋ ᴛʀᴇᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘɪᴛᴄʜ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ, ᴏᴠᴇʀɢʀᴏᴡɴ ꜰᴏʀᴇꜱᴛ. ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱᴏᴜʟ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇᴅ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴀɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ɢʀᴏᴡꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀꜰᴜʟ & ᴍᴀʟᴇᴠᴏʟᴇɴᴛ. 

ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ, ꜰᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ᴀꜱ ᴛʀɪꜱᴛ ʙ, ʜᴀꜱ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇᴅ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀᴍᴀɴᴇɴᴛ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇꜱᴏʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ᴍᴀᴄᴀʙʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀᴇꜱᴛꜱ. 

© ℗ ᴍᴀꜱᴋᴇᴅ ᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ ᴇɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴᴍᴇɴᴛ

© ℗ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ - ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅᴇʀ

WHVT DX YXU F33L? (Prod. fewtile)

TRIST B

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