Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Without Warning, artist - Celph Titled. Album song The Gatalog, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 15.10.2002
Record label: Demigodz Enterprises
Song language: English
Without Warning |
| Yeah, that’s right |
| You know what I mean |
| Bombay Safire, the India Bambaataa |
| Ain’t no underground shit right here |
| Ay, yo, Electro, bring in the drums son |
| It’s like niggas see your mug up on TV |
| And they think shits sweet, right |
| You know what I mean |
| Do a couple of major label tours |
| And shit ain’t sweet |
| Ay, yo, Celph Titled |
| Talk to these mother fuckers |
| (Verse 1: Celph Titled) |
| Look down the barrel mother fucker |
| You can see what hell look like |
| I ain’t never rock a halo |
| I grow horns from my head at midnight |
| My whole steeze consists of anger management release |
| Act like a baby and get dropped right on your head piece |
| This flow is deadly faggot, fuck, what you stupid |
| Oppose me and have you running |
| From an angry mob of Cubans |
| I’m a cross between Bram Stoker and La Cosa Nostra |
| We organized vampires with a chrome attire |
| This ain’t no tough talk, it’s words from a genius |
| You could me the meanest thug |
| I’ll still have homicide cleaning your rug |
| Drinking the dick syrup, you bitches is intoxicated |
| I never use a rubber ma, my Glocks are chrome plated |
| Up in the studio, my masters rest in an alter |
| We keep a holy dress code, my engineers wear priest collars |
| Duck from the fire spray, this is how we making hits |
| I love the taste of burnt flesh, it tastes like bacon bits |
| (Verse 2: The1shanti) |
| I know you seen us in those videos (Right) |
| And heard our voice on the radio (True that) |
| With all of the pretty faces, check the phrasing |
| We keep it moving, Cuban to Asian |
| In this game, it’s either me or you star |
| I ain’t come up like Harold and Kumar |
| More like that kid who’s counting them blue cars |
| Fucks with mines, you’ll be calling on Blue Cross |
| Aspiring, I take it one step higher than |
| I stay trail blazing, they bootleg firemen |
| Conspiring, thinking of me retiring |
| You in too deep, now you wrestling leviathan |
| Deny a man from getting paid right |
| You all perspiring because you a bunch of playwrights |
| Stay tight with family, don’t need friends kid |
| When I said 90 percent nigga I meant it |
| Some man shit, this is my school, y’all suspended |
| Never missing a day of the hustle, perfect attendance |
| Liquor a blend with to make your head spin |
| With electro-four yo, that nigga president |
| (Outro: The1shanti) |
| I know you seen us in those videos (True) |
| And heard our voice on the radio (Right) |
| With all of the pretty faces, check the phrasing |
| We keep it moving, Cuban to Asian |
| It’s like mother fuckers see your mug up on MTV |
| And shit and think shit’s sweet all the sudden |
| Y’all ain’t grinding on the levels we’ve been grinding at |
| Mother fucking assholes |
| Trying to take away a little bit of shine |
| Because we’ve been grinding a decade and then some |
| Put in your time and then talk the shit |
| Do your homework |
| Before you talk to the mother fucking professors |
| Celph mother fucking Titled |
| Mother fucking 1shanti |
| Electro mother fucking four |
| Do the research |