Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Undeclared Wars, artist - Billy Woods. Album song Camouflage [Re-Release], in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 09.02.2009
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Backwoodz Studioz
Song language: English
Undeclared Wars |
We in the Backwoodz Studioz twisting up buds and |
We in the Backwoodz Studioz twisting up buds and |
We in the Backwoodz Studioz twisting up buds and |
Rappers with beauty pageants drop tapes like Bin Laden |
Look at these rappers like beauty pageant drop tapes like Bin Laden |
Drop tapes like Bin Laden, NSAs and attaches, let the cast hit play |
Everything is politics, dirty tricks, military industrial cliques |
Reveal the triple-six, guess what it’s all fixed |
Like playing chess, blacks versus whites |
Rich and poor undeclared wars, chickens come home to roost |
Two dutches one loose, red handlings |
Wild geese, cops off the leash, no peace |
Them is the poems in the cemetery, molesters in the seminary |
Babylon got weary, so my appearance very merry |
Off the ships could bury, got a little house on the prairie |
Smell the roses, pop the cherry, smash through the looking glass |
Cheshire Cat off the hat, smack ‘em fast with a bottle of sour |
Maps, flags at half mast, come through with air fast |
Crush your supporting cast, high in the friendly skies |
Tight guys crack wising, kevlar shooting |
Take names like the court clerk, shots bust like stenography |
Gunman’s in staccato, mulatto vatos playing straight shot lotto |
Congrats, and todays grand prize, won a slave of the month |
Gentlemen ready your blunts |
We the Backwoodz Studioz twisting up buds and woods |
From hoods where young ones snatching goods |
And everyone acting fool, we just can’t live |
Travel road, bruise blacks with blues |
We’d rather ravage crews, instead of losing they clapping too |
We been through it, for freestyle in cold winters on corners |
Til mom flipping, sick of the warrants, have the cops |
At your door, four in the morning, but I ain’t even at my mom’s |
Crib, somewhere else waking up yawning, mind’s whirling |
From last night got high as a, trying to get by with |
Our little bit of bucks, living in the slums, but locked |
In the belly of the beast, gotta hold yours |
Like steady them beats, we humble |
Wide heads had they cakes |
Living in the belly of the beast, gotta |
Hold yours like steady and release, we humble |
Wild heads have they cake and eat, we got a gun |
Just a piece and there ain’t no peace |
Til they take away the murderers and brutalities |
Of police, til then I’mma watch for the slow leak |
And hold heat, forever rap this music for my soul’s peace |
Hired on the western front, civil war |
We gon' leave rappers with stumps |
Your frown got fat like they clumps |
Black might take your queen in two jumps |
We did the hump, rival crew best prepare |
For mechanized warfare, we do it in the trenches |
Lieutenant corporal of the benches |
Thinking it’s about weed and bare shits and giggles |
We playing fiddles with smoke over Rome |
Pull you from the throne, sic semper tyrannis |
Rap madness, looking like Michael |
Trying to be the baddest, shit just looked comical |
Like a fat bitch with the monocle, my rap book |
The chronicle, spliff geometry conical |
Against the grain with Dutch strains tropical |
If niggas only knew, I be more broke than you |
Just smoke better, but fuck it I autograph with |
That letter, to me it’s whatever, we can go |
Paper-view at the Staple cener, Madison Square |
Or the Gobi Desert, get your crew together |
What you gon' need to be than just clever |
All blues is is mo' better, sung through stormy weather |