| The invincible huh? |
| Yeah ya’ll be seeing it
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| It is what it is indeed Stoupie
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| Ya’ll be knowing huh? |
| Let 'em know
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| Hold the device tight, when it’s time for a mic fight
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| You’re a pagan trying to battle someone who’s Christ-like
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| The precise knight that smash you with a white pipe
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| Left you bleeding into the ocean under the night’s light
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| Oh you hype right? |
| Well meet the soul benders
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| Cop that or get shot at like goaltenders
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| You roll benches till playing fear was fair game
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| Ya’ll got fucked up like sex on an airplane
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| That’s why we can’t change, we just ill
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| We blow trees, sip Ole E’s and spit real
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| The clip’s filled with the wrath that Cain saw
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| Then I slash with a leather mask and chainsaw
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| That’s why the brain’s raw, that’s why your veins pour
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| That’s why you copped my shit nine times at the same store
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| That’s why you Entered the Dragon and got slashed
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| And that’s why the Hologram counting up cash. |
| What?!
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| Looking for rappers who wanna battle
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| Don’t seem to understand that I’m just that bad
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| The underground rapper who be wrecking
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| Whatever ya want yo, whatever ya like
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| Holocaust, rap javelin toss, the Sha’s the boss
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| I take what’s yours, pour poison in your pores
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| I’m down for the cause my nigga, not «because»
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| My soul wasn’t made to be lost, stop for the pause
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| I play 48 minutes hard without the calls
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| Slicing elbows through ya jaw, need I say more?
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| Fascinated with 44's and foul whores
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| Large gram cook-ups, and the ill drug scores
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| My captivating verses, that’ll open all doors
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| I soar like a condor ready for war, fuck the law!
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| «raindrops on the ground»
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| Looking for rappers who wanna battle
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| Don’t seem to understand that I’m just that bad
|
| The underground rapper who be wrecking
|
| Whatever ya want yo, whatever ya like
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| Ominous leave your brain matter painted on ya Stainmaster
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| Game of Death motherfucker we draft ya, semi-autograph ya
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| Keeping L’s lit, sending pellets through helmets
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| Shells hit, you and the fag you share a cell with
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| Taking niggas out their element, rhyme fighters
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| Divine writers, time travelers, Sliders
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| Pale niggas act jail lifers
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| True tale is that they nail biters with the trails in they diapers
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| Shoes never walk nor land, explore land
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| I expose my scrolls and code it in Fortran
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| Bullets graze ya wig kid, brushes with death
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| I let the iron clutch grip the bones in ya flesh
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| Playing on ya wrist like strings on a violin
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| Dying in a blood pool wrestling Leviathan
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| Fucking wit Gods, Jedi Mind Tricks
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| Ya’ll suckas like niggas born without dicks |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Contra, artist - Jedi Mind Tricks. Album song Violent By Design, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп