Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Conversation with a Bullet, artist - Army of the Pharaohs. Album song Heavy Lies the Crown, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 20.10.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Enemy Soil
Song language: English
Conversation with a Bullet |
My first time outta the gate, we back on that Pharaoh shit |
Zilla in the mix with a deadly pause in his arrow tip |
Rock spots, wielding machete murder it nonstop |
On my block, niggas will squeeze bleeding your snot box |
(Raw) |
Definition we definitely the missing |
Link, hand me the keys of the rocket we on the brink |
And blast off it’s fight music |
I’m like Ike Quartey in his prime |
Critics don’t rhyme, I let the hype prove it |
Fuck your deal in the ass, I came to hurt 'em and crash |
300 soldiers commandeered by Paz |
A million listeners supported my camp |
Who would’ve thought the boy from Texas could massacre on verbal command |
I’m the reason you rewriting your verse kid |
You’re better off with metal in your mouth going out like Kurt did |
AOTP the mahfucking truth |
I’m a monster truck rolling over your Coupe |
Let’s go! |
While you was arguing who was getting the top of the bunk |
I was arguing about who getting the Glock or the pump |
Can train paratrooper maneuvers, watch me swoop in |
And have these bitches dribbling my balls like Sheryl Swoope’s friends |
(Oh yeah we balling mayne) |
But that’s only the start |
I play the Master P role, you play Lil' Romeo’s part (aww) |
I’m a leader not a follower, gasoline I be gargling |
Ready to spit it out in front of a flame and make some carcasses |
You shopping in bargain bins, I’m outside parking my Benz |
Grenade man, much more than a marketing trend (i am) |
And if I could I’d shoot napalm bullets |
Atomic hollow points before the military even got the joints (what?) |
Some futuristic shit, sniper rifles with pistol grips |
Heat seeking .50 cals with rocket guiding missile tips (damn) |
I’m trying not to scare my neighbor off |
So if they see blood I try to play it off like it’s tomato sauce |
We the hardest rap niggas in the game |
Never catch a Pharaoh trying to go against the grain |
Dogs with no muzzle that’ll tussle for the chain |
Strapped up with shovels now to bury the remains |
Nothing better than a headbanger banging off the monitors |
Kilogram of coke getting smuggled four kilometers |
The walls are caving in on niggas, pressure getting powerful |
See you at your funeral, now who am I giving flowers to? |
This is murder rap, up in a grenade launcher |
Everything’s a death threat, rugged like a Bing monster |
Lock me up you could throw away the key |
I’m behind every bar like a stowaway from me |
Man I’m pouring lighter fluid in the booth to turn the flames up |
Working extra hard, young niggas fucked the game up |
Snap back (backpack), nigga we done did that |
Kids napping on me only getting niggas kidnapped |
Got the game gift wrapped, money looking mummy tight |
Doug E. Fresh nigga, you’d a teach me how to Dougie tight |
Type of dudes start straight, snitching to the po-nine |
Po-nine mad at me, I’m sitting on a goldmine |
Yeah |
I fuck with Marx like the Bolsheviks |
Eat a mahfucker heart, cross it off the grocery list |
Being close to godliness is being close to loneliness |
Like being close to Communist is being close to Socialist |
It’s a cemetery reign, this is frozen mist |
I swim and I don’t get wet, I am oceanless |
Straight right/left hook y’all are motionless |
How is you gon' make magic when you potionless? |
Feeding multiple motherfuckers like loaves of fish |
Gun cannon assembly from Terrordome broken clips |
I just wrote so many rhymes I got a broken wrist |
You ain’t worth the left hook, stupid here’s an open fist |