Rattling The Keys To The Kingdom

[Hook] We came and we conquered, they praying to poppa They claiming they want to, they really don't want to You ain't maiming a monster so don't bother with offers Till the day that I die, I ain't stepping aside for one of you We came and we conquered, they praying to poppa They claiming they want to, they really don't want to You ain't maiming a monster so don't bother with offers Till the day that I die, I ain't stepping aside for one of you [Verse 1: Pressure] Check, When I start breathing heavily, I scar the beat and melody They said that we dreaming we'll keep reaching till we leaving heavenly The key to freedoms said to be, release and leave the memory Think you offended me? Please, with critics like these who needs an enemy? Indeed a breed of pedigree beast unleashing speech telepathy Here to bleed the industry of its diseased and evil effigy Demons, thieving, greed and revelry, we're in need and seeking remedy But it seems to stay ten feet ahead of me like a centipede I'm a train upon a track, I'm a flame upon a match Ain't straying from my place I want my face upon the map I'm the weight upon your back, I'm a razor on your lap We came to conquer, stage and opera, fade it onto black Now hush, hear the voice, so addicted to the Rush to fill the void, dismissing everything we love To feel joy, build it up then we Crush, kill, destroy [Hook] [Verse 2: Suffa] I go bananas every time, mind blown Nirvana, Nevermind They need some ketamine to calm us, harness the darkness every line Till I been enlightened I'm leaving 'em terrified Like Bin Laden been hiding under their bed every night they go beddy-bye Fat as the fattest Federline, fat as that cat post Brittney Madness that is a friend of mine, rappers get mashed so quickly War comes, hear the roar from the raw drums, beat your poor son just from the boredom Jump up, but you're stunned, dumb struck, you're done like Young Buck post Fifty We claw at the morons, and pour on the soothing hooks on heaters Like them pouring the Boron on core on the shore of Fukushima They adore the recordings and we lording it over them Think we're joking? Then we're going door to door with some Dobermans No DMX, they thinking they got me pegged like BMX But ain't seeing T or X, Briggs, Hons, Debris or Vents We the best, no Khaled We the best like Ali, Muhammad [Hook]