Lyrics Contra Mantra - Army of the Pharaohs, Celph Titled, Esoteric

Contra Mantra

Uh, yeah, okay.
A.O.T.P
E.S, Celph Titled.
What up?
Uh
I solemnly swear, this is my testimony
I’mma keep it one hundred while the rest are phony
I’m wildin' out like suicide is my mission
I ain’t tryin' to be crucified by the system
You should take heed, I advise you to listen
Watch me break knees, I’m surprisin' my victims
The question remains who am I when I’m spittin'?
It’s me, the MC, I ain’t no new edition
My mind’s a coliseum, I spit diamonds that glisten
The beat is my journal where these lines will get written
Been through the garden, ate the fruit that’s forbidden
So back the fuck up when I’m removin' my fitted
You could never walk in these shoes you don’t fit in
Y’all all say your hot but that is just your opinion
Y’all can all die in the spot that you sit in
A.O.T.P., the underground has risen
All we do is pray till the game come back
That’s why we sitting here building, spitting flame on tracks
(So what you say) don’t matter at all
So we gon' sit here and wait till God answer the call
All we do is pray till the game come back
That’s why we sitting here building, spitting flame on tracks
(So what you say) don’t matter at all
So we gon' sit here and wait till God answer the call
It’s such a pity
Ain’t nothing pretty
Lyrics bury cats under 150 tons of scum in the city
You say you poppin' bottles and stunnin' like Diddy?
But your pockets be flatter than a models stomach and tittes
While you frontin' like you rugged an gritty
Why I spit it so hot
Why I like Big L and Big Pun more than Biggie and Pac
I’m from that late 90's era where the Polo wasn’t jig enough
A Gucci and Louie and Prada shit wasn’t big enough
I would spit it ridiculous, stay on point like Rondo
Y’all bring up the rear like a J-Lo convo
No they don’t want no beef, they all want their teeth
I may go Bronco, so lay low pronto chief
Four albums in a year, that’s more than in your whole career
They all bang, battle?
I do more than end your whole career
So severe, beat you with a foldin' chair, listen
A.O.T.P.'s what the games missin'
(All we do is spray) Till the game come back
That’s why we sittin' here building, spittin' flame on tracks
(So what you say) Don’t matter at all
So we gon' sit here and wait till God answer the call
All we do is pray till the game come back
That’s why we sitting here building, spitting flame on tracks
(So what you say) don’t matter at all
So we gon' sit here and wait till God answer the call
Yo, yeah
Paper money?
No, I wanna see that iron buck
They be robbin' hoods, so I keep that fryer tucked
Try to have these props taken from me?
You end up red and blue like a female cop on they monthly
Dumpin' student body’s in front of the student body, air em out
Beacon on my radar tellin' me where’s ya whereabouts?
(where?)
Magazine drums, have ya head bobbin'
Dead body nonstop noddin' downhill in a toboggan
Shoot the Uz through ya house in Honolulu (Ooh wow)
I’ll throw a pineapple grenade at ya, (Luau)
Am I conceited?
Oh yeah best believe it
Rap supervisor, pop up on lawns with fire arms
True surpriser
You’ll be rockin an upside-down visor
And it won’t be a wack fashion trend neither
More like Suge Knight/Vanilla Ice shit, hotel balcony danglin'
My monsoon is Tom Cruise Valkyrie famous
(All we do is spray) till the game come back
That’s why we sittin' here building, spittin' flame on tracks
(So what you say) don’t matter at all
So we gon' sit here and wait till God answer the call
All we do is pray till the game come back
That’s why we sitting here building, spitting flame on tracks
(So what you say) don’t matter at all
So we gon' sit here and wait till God answer the call