Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Seven, artist - Celph Titled. Album song Ritual of Battle, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 24.09.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Babygrande
Song language: English
Seven |
Yeah! |
Yo, uh |
A lot of rappers try approaching the omen |
My poems will punish your people while I’m up at the podium |
Pharaohs folding 'em, like washed clothes again |
I’m a vulture when the flow go choke your kin |
Broke, I leave most of them, slow, I keep my motionin' |
Eye on the prize |
I silence the wise, my lyrics make a scientist cry |
Making a secret society expose their purpose |
Making 'em unleash info and explode in my surface |
I’m taking my time to birth this, rap entity earthless |
It’s show time, there’s no time, be ready when the curtain split |
I’m hurtin' shit, too powerful for painkillers |
On the concrete jungle we walk like trained guerillas |
Untamed, and my niggas is Kane, Kool G, Rakim, combined into one frame |
We like the new mecca of immaculate rappers |
Vinnie Paz, call the goons, now we back with the clappers |
Yo, remain silent, kill him with what I mentally says |
Bloody Fez, choke you like an Indian rez |
Kamach, animal Turk, sick with a cannibal smirk |
Welcome, this where the murderers lurk |
It’s my mind, that make sure that the Sun can work |
Scorch bodies, leave all of your gunmen hurt |
Pharaoh sultans, create a serious cult jam |
And my hand is where the tears of the pope ran |
They stay watching like they keep me on a scope cam |
I’m in Heaven with the angels that smoke grams |
You need God, that’s why the earth so damned |
International, trying to get my flow banned |
That’s cool, if I don’t kick these prayers |
A lot of floods and fam' is gonna hit these years |
Kamachi back on the chapel stairs |
Open the clouds, let the thunder clap your ears |
You wanna put your money up? |
Then muthafucker then put it |
For your family’s sanity man, I wish that you wouldn’t |
Niggas got nice flows, just dont know where to put it |
And I know your whole life your raps are edited footage |
And y’all mixtape niggas couldn’t see my plateaus |
All up in my presence, while y’all actin' bashful |
King Syze casting an ecliptic rap flow |
Y’all little light niggas couldn’t feed my shadows |
From, city to city, intersection to section |
But you reflexin', with or without a weapon |
I’m always steppin', never scared |
But always and forever prepared |
Yeah the ones who drink gas man is revvin' their gears |
You now rocking' with the foulest clique in the continent |
Total dominance, rise to prominence |
In my prime like Optimus, stand in astonishment |
At this conglomerate, an axis of evil |
I know where Osama is, he down in Camp David |
Down and dirty like a damp basement |
The champ must demand greatness |
From himself, or be another contender |
There’s hundreds of niggas |
Dead left under the river |
From the days of slaves |
To hurricanes in Orleans |
See my people’s graves floatin' amongst the waves |
There’s hell to pay, but |
The devil don’t take checks |
I tried to send a message to God |
His phone don’t take texts |
I need a new plan, a crook with knowledge |
Times is hard homie, why I took them dollars |
Man, my momma got a mortgage |
And my little baby sister need books for college |
I rob all of y’all |
Hey, yo, they want the hood in here so they called me first |
I give 'em rappers gatorade cause they ball with thirst, UH! |
This is more than music |
But these niggas is mad trash |
That’s why the stores refuse 'em |
Yo, I’m out in Georgia, went straight to the block |
I’m seein' cats motorcyclin' dawg, I’m doin the walk |
I’m an O.G., call my Italian niggas a wop |
Though their papers ain’t right, but they got weight on the block |
I love 'em uh |
Hand to hand, see your hands ache |
I drunk so much syrup dawg I stopped eatin' pancakes |
Ya niggas cool dawg mine’s absurd hot |
Stop frontin' like you’s a killer money, your nerves shot |
Yo you’s a Paxil nigga, dumpin' Zoloft in coffee |
AOTP what exhaust be |
Can’t keep it gear, cause I’m blinging with F’s |
But I got my mind right so swing your shit to the left |
Nigga if I had 24 hours to live |
Fuck 24 hours, gimme 24 seconds |
Vin I’m drivin' off a bridge |
Broken rib, no windshield, covered in kerosene |
Gasoline tank filled to the top |
Magazines of these phony rappers ripped in pieces |
No priest is, strong enough to take me out of my zone |
I broke Jesus, choke niggas who squeal |
Rob niggas who steal, kill niggas who kill |
I’m too sick for a pill |
Man these niggas ain’t real, they real fake |
They say they a man but they fuckin' reveal snakes |
That’s when you put 'em in the trunk with their grill taped |
Rip in reverse then run into a steel gate |
I’m a suicide driver, never been a liar |
If I don’t kill you later, I’mma kill you mañana |
You don’t want no problems |
You don’t want no drama |
Nigga I’mma take a trip with your baby momma, suicide driver |
Ya better cross your T’s |
Cause we’ll dot your eyes |
You can say that you specialize but pharaohs will optimize |
Backstage will get a bitch back smacked there |
The mac glare like dirty south pimp slap clap snares, YEAH! |
Holy paragraphs, what kind of shit is that? |
I’m Jesus in the flesh so this is motherfuckin' Christian rap |
Y’all just Christmas wrap, must be the secret Santa |
My reindeer aim near, pierce you with the antlers |
I made 'em go easy, and called off the wolves on my AOTP radio CB |
Cause y’all ain’t worthy of grenades and RPGs |
Slit throat, hope you float with sardines and seaweed |
Cause this is C-E-L-P-H demonic symphony |
Listen to the hell we make |
And a year before your kids tenth birthday came |
You didn’t have to wait for candles on the cake to see the nine flame |
Respect a G, my clique clap at you incessantly |
I lay back and drink alcohol excessively |
It ain’t a rapper that’s alive today that’s testing me |
I got degrees in being ignorant and weaponry |
A 40 oz and Dutch Master is the recipe |
That’s my shit there, that’ll be the death of me |
Give me a death mask, better yet an effigy |
I understand the math of death and it’s complexity |
I understand how you was violently murked |
I understand how you was raised under the lies of the church |
But understand and recognize that I’m cursed |
With the ability to end your fucking lives with a verse |