Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song All out War, artist - Celph Titled. Album song The Gatalog, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 15.10.2002
Record label: Demigodz Enterprises
Song language: English
All out War |
«Lyrical Commission» |
«Turntable and I, tear shit up» |
«Celph Titled» |
«Settle the score» |
«All out war» |
(Verse 1: Trem) |
This is all out war with a fallout sure to cause a backlash |
I’ll bash in your fucking face, I don’t stab backs |
Trends attacking rappers with a thirst for blood |
Submerge your body in a river shoved in a Persian rug |
Eternal come for curtains, that’s a certainty |
Leaving third degree burns from these first degree murder sprees |
Earning me and my verse and these words global praise |
I throw grenades when I flow and set the show ablaze |
A fire bug for hire shrugging a cop off |
Plug in the micro bomb, soft cunts to compost |
We from a long lost planet where rap is real |
Still intact and untapped by the mass appeal |
Market, LC spark and blast targets |
Master the craft and kick it raw like a carcass |
Lyrical Commission’s carving a path with rotor blades |
We roll deeper in the streets than a motorcade |
(Verse 2: brad strut) |
I’m barely breathing, bleeding, heart rate increasing |
It’s fire stakes, I can’t take fakes and thieves |
And past mistakes seep in through the gaps of my armour |
Ain’t nothing what it seems as I battle with snake charmers |
Paint you a portrait, I got a sword, just not cautious, do what I want |
My squads forces hard to handle like a grenade on detonation |
Rock the candles, a parade of devastation |
Defend the nation while I step inside your earlobes |
And carve you split of slick spits and I don’t fear no man |
You need heroes, all I want is beer, blow some weed and type speech |
Some beats and reap zero, disrespect, I hinder reps with heavy burden |
Get in your head, and leave you left for dead, they’re calling curtains |
This shit’s superb in your Car or Walkman, go stalking an important |
Public figure’s son is a slick assassinator, four fours caught in an elixir |
Sworn to fascinate you with scorn joining the mix, it’s life and death |
In this business, it’s kind of sad, but I define my track with death scriptures |
(Verse 3: Celph Titled) |
There ain’t a motherfucker been in more fights than me |
O.G.'s in my hood ain’t got more stripes than me |
Celph Titled is known to tote but when I ain’t packing |
I keep a buck 150 nigga, we can get it cracking |
And if I throw slugs you better pray they graze your chin |
You said you had an infrared but that was just a laser pen |
Just the sight of me will make you strain to breathe |
I shoot till I’m satisfied, I aim to please |
And you ain’t got more ammo than me |
With clips there’s no contender |
In my house we keep gun oil in a liquid soap dispensers |
You shouldn’t let your mouth flap |
Cause I’mma put you down under and I ain’t talking 'bout The Outback |
In New York I’m grungy |
In Australia I’m Dundee |
Cooking barbecue with just the smoke from my gun heat |
Niggas get comfy with a pillow in they face |
The Demigodz and Commission filling body bags by the case |
(Verse 4: Bob Balans) |
The world leaves the forgotten to lurk in the waste |
That’s why I don’t trust, I hurdle through space |
With a thrust and peril is safe from the payback |
Cause where I stay you fight for a placemat |
And I don’t say cat, cause where I grew up that meant faggot |
But I do leaves tracks po’wed and flattered |
Staked in habit, daggered, when I unsheathe the mic from the scabbard |
And uphold the standard cause your fates borrowed |
So check the horrid scars on your face and forehead |
In hostile territory like foreign embassy |
LC start a war, now we’re the common enemy |
Execute you to a tight schedule |
Get the general, the rest are expendable |
Melt ya, every decibel held ya in a molten tank |
Until it’s over your scalp and there’s nothing left for burial |
Your aluminum in the smolder stay crushed, the heavy fuel |
Expels the metal shells in your shoulder |
Arial assault leave you pumped like a propeller |