Desperate Times

[Blakspik] Who be them cats talking that ra ra shit With all that blasphemous talk they need to step to the left There's no more real rap just fake cats with fake raps Actin refined but in the dark they eatin the swine So who's the killer now with mad body counts It's cool to smoke wools cop dope and act like a fool But I don't carry no burners to look rough Or smoke no la la so I can look tough I just maintain like them old school brothers do Rap is slippin so whos the A and R trippin' This is the sounds that we created Translated from true to to life scenes, verbally stated So call the cavalry cause we's about to go to war And get your wig split my crew is kind of desperate [Hook: Skinslaya] Jealousy lies and deceit Step to me with that shit it's an instant ass beat You can't do shit if you can't stick together Desperate times for desperate fuckin measures [Hook: Blakspik] Desperate times call for desperate measures The true hip hop won't succumb to the pressures So keep it pure, hardcore and raw Soul Kid Klik declare war! [G-Clef Da Mad Komposa] As I stand perched on a cliff in the skies of Mount Ararat high Smokin' a spliff lookin down on the sewer rats Swoop down to earth in the form Gideon's Hawk Then land in a pile of sand that used to be New York I'm kickin rhymes in the worlds biggest sandbox Battling Ewoks descended from hard rocks Conduct a eulogy among the devastation Of a land formerly brand the hip hop nation The tribal leaders sometimes see me as a rival We communicate through rap as a means to our survival But overall we're in co-operation The resurrection of hip-hop's a sticky operation Heed the recipe, a eye of neut, a pinch of rice Twice, follow the book the recipe's precise Look! Descending as the sky grows dim Comes the Soul Kid Klik, Wu-Tang Clan and Rakim! [Hook] [Infamous Mr. Savage] Nineteen ninety somethin The year of the studio gangsta fakin and frontin It's open season on you bitch rappers im goin huntin' It's war between real hip-hop and rap Wreck shop or wack, fist fights and carry gats My mind reacts to notes upon the track That take me back to 1988 when the scene was fat Nowadays you got these little ass niggas actin like they Bigger fakin on triggers, it all look good in pictures Which which is which that kid who shoots his lip But in the face of beef switch up turns bitch [Storm da Ghetto Mutant] And changes pitch! [Infamous Mr. Savage] The apocalypse for style biters and criminals Stop suckin' the next man's dick and be original Following trends the agenda of a beginner Heard Wu-Tang Clan now everybody is a five percenter Disrespectable non intellectual It's desperate times kid guard that knot before I step to you! [Hook] [Storm Da Ghetto Mutant] Me and my clique is at war to keep this pure Verse an industry poisonous to the core Financial collaborators end up in broken refrigerators Style snatchers get dropped in trash compactors Shiesty A and R's get strangled in the trunk of cars The Ghetto Mutant on the battle field leading the charge Stalkin', striking foes headless horseman style On a hunt like a pack of wolves in the wild For infidels niggas are rotten fabricated tales Yeah ya shit may sell but I'm a see that ass in hell For the desecration of the sacred art... Rhymes striking Storm bolts of lightning through your heart [Hook]