Lyrics A Storm of Swords - Jedi Mind Tricks, Planetary of Outerspace

A Storm of Swords

Yo, serious syllable wordplay, verse spray
Like a desert bird please, niggaz, where the curb lay
Turn plagen, pretty shitty on a church day
Ya city my committee, tustle where the dirt stay
Smoke inside the cell dirt, tray’s are undercovers
Old head feed kids, have to run the numbers
Damn shame niggaz in my crew can’t bang
You the man, fame, here’s my man frame, champagne
Swig to the wig, Belle', vodka, hit my rib
Corona beers with a slice of lemon first dig
On an open mic, growl follows, space over night
Destroying your perimeter, players and prototypes
(High powers) lift through your soul, through die shower
Resurrected your spirit, with lyrics for top dollars
My squad, holler the loudest, y’all niggaz childish
We grown folk here, spittin’raw street knowledge
Y’all can’t touch us, cause we ain’t fuckin’around
And y’all can’t fuck with us, or else we buckin’dem down
This animal rap, cannibal rap that we make
I hate all, hate law and hate jake
I hate everything that you stand for, it’s fake
Cuz everybody bitin’the gods, a day late
I maintain, handle beef Islamly
Manage my life calmly, like I was Gandhi
Fuckin’with Vinnie Paz, the one man army
It take a shack and metal tank to harm me Come on b, why you trynna to build
Why you trynna get ya whole entire family killed
I’m like a demon outta Amityville
I’m the motherfuckin’that you had any skill
With tight ill, crack ya head like when an egg drop
And put you in the figure-four leglock
And make ya head bop, cause we the rawest around
Vinnie Paz, with my man Stoupe holdin’me down
(Vinnie Paz)
Surrender and quit (or I’ma let the venomous spit)
Tremendous equip (we buggin’off the Hennessy sip)
The weaponry hit (we hit you with the heavenly shit)
Only reason you live (cuz we at the end of the clip)
The energy split (young cats must be sick in the brain)
We hittin’the vain (cuz of y’all spittin’the same)
We shookin’the flame (and mounted all the chips in ya chain)
We stick to the game (ran and inflicted the pain)
The stitches remain (and matter fact, we sonnin’y’all kids)
And after that we snatchin’up ya son and ya wiz
(We robbin’the kids, and puttin’metal slugs in ya wigs)
We stuck in the crib (frozen with your gut to the fridge)
We cuttin’ya ribs (Jed Mind stifflin’y’all)
It’s right from the far (we pointin’fuckin’rifles at y’all
You ain’t icey at all, we provoke the sheisty to brawl)
If y’all sleep, Outerspace, slicin’ya jaw