Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Strike, artist - Dope D.O.D.. Date of issue: 23.08.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
The Strike |
| I’m gonna get it in, shit gonna be craving |
| Shit gonna get crate, extra pills nigga, extra pills |
| Word up, that fucking real |
| Extra pills, extra pills motherfucker! |
| (Time to show these motherfuckers once |
| And for all) |
| Ay yo Reaper, get 'em! |
| Ay yo, of course I’m the big fat boss in this |
| Fuck Rick Ross |
| I got the force of a rhinoceros |
| I’m cautious with awesomeness |
| Niggas start horsing it |
| Mother Fuck, I’ma drag you to corcuses |
| Our power like the parliament, power to the people |
| To the cowards, to the heart of men |
| Arm and a leg is what it takes to be a part of this |
| Arsenic arsenist |
| I’ma 'bout to start some shit like Martin Laurence did |
| So, we waiting by your door step, in a Corvette |
| I got a big buck knife and a sore head |
| And I’m fuckin' pissed |
| Cutting niggas up, a limp and leave with a lisp, now we off the list |
| Dump dadda, body dumped in Nevada |
| Bloody blue calla crimes, niggas say halla |
| State of Nirvana, only fuck with the enlightened ones |
| We the Titan Sons, what you fear that’s what I’ll become |
| Most definite I’m sicker than the lepresis |
| Well equipped, devils kid, exorcist, sell a bitch |
| Open up the gate and step foot into my hellish pit |
| Do it Reveren |
| Just for the hell of it! |
| So, your girlfriends pregnant? |
| Get ready for abortion |
| Kicked her in the tummy, now she’s gonna say we lost 'em |
| You think its tragic, but I say it’s awesome |
| You can count on D.O.D and me to get the job done |
| Your the lost one never to be found again |
| Oh, your parents think now will this ever end |
| The answers no, cuz I’m only here to torment |
| Now your sons dead, text message, I press send |
| Guess what, into hell I will descend |
| Just to meet up with my friends so, we are evil in the end |
| Even lethal with a pen, I be slaying many men |
| And every now and then I make sure there’s a dead end |
| Any rapper out there who dare to compare |
| Well I kick some stairs |
| Will get (striked, motherfucker!) |
| Any half ass nigga with a plan to get |
| Bigga Dope, D.O.D did it, cuz we (strike motherfucker!) |
| We the punks getting drunk, getting high off the skunk |
| While we jump to the funk, cuz we (strike motherfucker!) |
| Now we don’t follow, no hype motherfuckers |
| That’s cuz we strike motherfuckers |
| You disappear with no trace in the cold days |
| In a storm rave with a blanket of snow flakes |
| Sleep tight, there’s a whole life after death, ahead of you |
| When I strike you go back to bed |
| I reminisce on what my dad once said |
| If words don’t affect them, smash their heads |
| That’s why I keep a crowbar inside the shed |
| And makes sure I ain’t caught when my hands turn red |
| Sometimes it just feels like we’re the last ones left |
| That ain’t fucking swag boy, you fags, yeah you heard me |
| I took over rap and I ain’t half way thirty |
| Swallowing the scene, like a half dead kirby |
| Gangsta or nerdy, there is no equivalent |
| We struck the game with a force that is militant |
| I ain’t fly but I spit fire |
| I might fly in a spit fire, blast at you dick writers |
| Choke you out with a thick wire, oh yeah |
| Its time for the blow torch and pliers again |
| Hit 'em with a strike till the black out |
| Then bail with the dough and return to the crack house |