Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Originators, artist - 9th Prince. Date of issue: 27.05.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Originators |
| Yo, what up? |
| This right here, is an explosion |
| For all the radio stations |
| Across United Nations |
| United States |
| Word up, turn this up right here |
| Eh-yo. |
| It’s the Prince |
| Eh-yo, Originators became Gladiators |
| God-body regulators with street educators |
| I was born from the womb, I’m energy handlin |
| Peep the creator of The Terminator |
| 9th Prince rhyme slayer |
| Stapleton Housing Projects, razors |
| Machine gun blazers |
| Ask your neighbors |
| Jamiacan rum, no chaser |
| Number one contender |
| We can bust guns after dinner |
| Last Man Standin, he’s the winner |
| Ghetto Prime Minister |
| Desert Storm sk-masked Avengers |
| We move like ninjas, in the winter |
| Born skin Adonis |
| Slugs to the stomach, blood gush like vomit |
| Madman’s bionic, check the rugged climate |
| Bright like lightnin, Terrorist Islamic |
| A ghetto superhero like Marvel Comics |
| Vertical limits, fresh notebooks |
| I write anthems for crooks |
| Image, cross the line of scrimmage |
| I shoot you in ya temple |
| And leave ya face shattered with dimples |
| Killarm’could never be so simple |
| Cross My Heart and won’t die 'til ya ass is crippled |
| In a wheelchair |
| Kneecap raps, flashbacks of Digital Warfare |
| Word up, I wanna say what up To those who copped our first and second album |
| Y’all real troups out there |
| Yo. |
| aight? |
| Eh-yo my alliance run through club cheetahs |
| Rusty Heaterz that bust like lyrical heat seekers |
| Through the speakers, non-believers are deceivers |
| Do the media, lyrics try to teach ya A walk through Harlem like Black Ceaser |
| Razor blade stashed inside a sole of my sneaker |
| Ill graphics, far from a savage |
| The streets is wicked like Halloween havoc |
| Little children with automatics |
| Imagine baby’s drive-bys in a carriage |
| Rap busters like Peter Pan |
| Or built like Sandman on a desert land |
| I’m from Shaolin, my sword is a mic stand |
| Used to swoll ya glands, 9th Prince’ll take command |
| Of the stage, my heart pumps rage |
| Like a jungle lion trapped inside a cage |
| I free the slaves through the +Airwaves+ |
| A Hot 97 airplay |
| All my real soldiers, raise ya AK’s and hand grenades |
| Word the fuck up The 9th Prism |
| The new millenium |
| Peace and blessins to all the 5 Boroughs |
| Brooklyn, Manhatten, Staten |
| Word up, Queens, you know? |
| Long Island, up state, Connecticut |
| The whole tri-state, New Jerz' |
| Peace and blessins to Killarm' |
| We armed and dangerous |
| For real, the new millenium |
| Get ready, one love |
| Two guns, three lives |