89
Rap
Tekst piosenki
[Takbir]
Aiyyo, first things first
It's time to shake ground in the eighth round
Box battle and break down
For the beak in the rhyme tone
Jump in the cyclone
S-T-Y-L-E-S, yes I know
Give the rap fiend vaccine
Packed red beam
Put 'em up, what the fuck
You plucked a bad seed
Off the wall, spittin' the guerilla tag team
What's up now, duck down stuff that can't breathe
[Ryu]
Yo, you know the routine, the team in effect
Please, don't step, you wanna feed one of my pet peeves?
The more beef the better; sound gay
But you all wanna sleep together, ok
In the club we don't sneak berettas
Why not? We got so much street credit, the fuckin' police let us
Now that's bullshit, cause we don't pack heat
So come and get your head crackin' up at me
[Hook]
Kick it- movin' it's on now
Making it punk loud
Shaking the buck wild
Rapin' the punk style
Fakin' the funk pal
Duck watch the pump
What now? Watch your battleship get sunk down
Click (click) pow (pow) Nine (nine) Thou (thou)
What? Just what I thought, what's up now?
Huh! Huh! *Buck shots through the speaker* [- Inspectah Deck sample starts
*stab-stab-stabbin' the track with both hands* [- Inspectah Deck sample ends
Huh! Huh! *Buck shots through the speaker* [- Inspectah Deck sample starts
*stab-stab-stabbin' the track with both hands* [- Inspectah Deck sample ends
[Ryu]
Hold it down, never give in
Styles, sever your limbs
However you want it to end
Dirty syringe, I'm Murder Maginn
97 serving them sins
A third of your friends get knocked out, turbulent winds
Hopped out, what you want? Beer, bourbon or gin
I'm a fish; you can tell by the hundreds of fins
C'mon
[Takbir]
Yo- I got a rock style
Pivot The Offspring and joke with 'em
With a distorted guitar string
Who am I? Russian Roulette, Camu Tao
Pushin' a 'vette hotter than Quebec in July
Area 51, stereo, rive gun live
Here we go, S-O-B drop some
For the kids in the hall with the new block tape
Blast from both angles like Boondock Saints
So get up get up and let the sound hit ya
Snap, it's audio style picture
(Lot electrical)
[Hook]
[Tak]
Who the hell wear splittin' the belly up on a shellfish
Shinnin' in your style playin' the fell blitz
Drillin' your brain, like rap and video games
Feel the syringe for the styles that stickin' in your brain
[Ryu]
Yo- what kind of shit is he on
Really, his +Style's+ really +Beyond+
C'mon punk fuck off; You really gotta be gone
Ripped out of your brain
Pissed covered in shit to diss this S-O-B game
Son of a bitch
I'mma start killin' for kicks
There ain't an Air Force 1 in the globe I can't fit, get it?
I'm sick with it, when I spit the venom
And it drips up in 'em
And it gets the women in a
Quick dilemma; We can settle it now
And I don't know who did it but they said it was Styles
*Buck shots through the speaker*
*stab-stab-stabbin' the track with both hands*
*Buck shots through the speaker*
*stab-stab-stabbin' the track with both hands*
[Hook]
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