Lyrics Bang - Doap Nixon, Apathy, Celph Titled

Bang

Left check, right check, brass knuckles, knife check
Nine double-m, black talons that?
check
Sour diesel, purple haze?
cloned
Two albums, both classics, my fans is grown
City life ain’t nothing like the south dude
How this nigga run his mouth with a missing tooth?
Three masters, we all got padawans
Dudes trying to bust heat, we got bag of bombs
You got word that Celph got the south hitting
Ap’s up top, me I’m right in the middle
And I got these rappers trying to bite my flow
Lying to their fans like they’re really getting dough
I’m Richard Pryor in his first movie
I’m a vet, salute me, rap raw like sushi
We the three hottest niggas in the game now
Cock it back bang let it bang now
Bionic demonic evolution pollution of the soul gold-plated
Nickel-plated pistol that’s located
Sedated, straitjacket, I traffic narcotics
I’m cosmic, cookie-cutter pussy up or cut her I’m robotic
Magical when I’m pouring all these potions in the pot
Fucked up from all those years pops smoked pot, coke, and microdots
My sniper on the roof don’t blink from rifle shots
Ninja Gaiden moves when I scale up walls
Throw Chinese stars when I rhyme these bars
Spit-shine these scars, AP stand large
Leave your head covered red like Van Halen guitars
I’m 80's, kinda like Charles In Charge
New Edition and DeBarge and DeLorean cars
We harvest human bodies like alien farms
I’ll leave cuts on guts but not caesarian scars
I stay cap-peeling 'em, rap villain with a cape and cane
Passenger 57 bringing snakes on a plane
Sit you in the motherfucking exit row seat, blow the door off
Watch you soar, off the Testarossa speed
The metronome to my beat’s erratic like jungle music
I put a hole in your dome, don’t need a gun to do it
Yeah I’m fucking stupid
The Army of the Gods is certified, I cosign everyone I’m in a group with
I get it popping in here, yes Redenbacher is here
Robocop, Clarence Boddicker’s here
Seems like everybody’s scared whenever flying iron disperse
Pints will squirt, now your polo rugby is a Hawaiian shirt
And I insert sharp knives to your chestplate
You will shit without Kaopectate
We don’t spectate opening acts cause they probably suck
We slice through your crew, show you how to make a posse cut