Lyrics Battle Cry - Joell Ortiz, Just Blaze

Battle Cry

How many times I gotta tell y’all I’m second to none?
No magazine’s top ten cause I’m negative one
So I don’t pay attention to them dumb folk
Cause I’mma always be in first like the clutch broke
I’m from where the cut-throats cut coke
Cause school ain’t cut it, they cut out to puff smoke
And guess what?
That’s who I hang with
So when you speak Industry, I don’t know the language
But play a beat and I’ll show you why I’m head honcho
Y’all gettin' away with murder like the white Bronco
Bunch of trash in-between hooks
Bars too cute to be gettin' all these mean looks
Put the hottest rappers all on one stage together
See who’ll hold they arm up like Che Guevera
I rhyme hotter and I say it better
I’mma win the Cold War: I’mma product of the Reagan Era
Dave Dinkins of the page inkin''
My 16s free y’all, I’m Hip-Hop's Abe Lincoln
Fam I don’t know what they thinkin'
These niggas got me fucked up like I spent all day drinkin'
I’m a boss, not a loss yet
You’re little lemons in a race with a souped-up Corvette
I’m so hot I could stand still and pour sweat
In the North Pole, fully naked with my balls wet
I’m a monster — these other niggas small pets
Claim they sick, but they get cured by your dog’s vet
I’m thorough from my Yank' to my Gore-Tex
You’re bluffin', I play poker — I’m callin' all bets
Local boy, when’s the last time you all left?
I don’t even know where the fuck I’m goin' on tour next
Last month Canada, before that?
Europe
I had waffles out in Belguim, you ain’t had syrup
Every time I write, it’s another flight
Another whore with my kids on her underbite
Another «YAOWA!»
I chant when I touch the mic
Another magazine spread, yeah you fuckin' right
I’m on my grind like a pair of in-line skates
Get on tracks and go bananas like a primate
Baboon, gorilla, chimpanzee, a wild ape
King Kong when he escape, I’m 'bout to skyscrape
But the sky ain’t the limit
I could teleport through my mind any minute
Take you to a place where the lions go «ribbit»
All the frogs «roar» and the fire is frigid
I’m outta this world, don’t belong here
What good is heiring the throne if I taught you from a small chair?
Family, you niggas got it twisted
Flow out of the box, yours chicken and a biscuit
Give me Chicken Pox when I listen, I be itchin'
To cripple your career like a ligament is missin'
Dawg I’m on a mission like an intimate position
When I swing it’s knockouts I ain’t gettin' a decision
From here on, it’s locked: y’all a prisoner to spittin'
Can’t escape my bars: no visitors permitted
Welcome to Hell where Joell holds a pitchfork
And you burn in eternal flames for your bitch-talk
Dick in my hand: I’m pissed off
But I ain’t bucklin', everyday I’m hustlin': Rick Ross
One day the whole globe will know that I’m Clark Kent
Underneath the shades on a project park bench
Superman when I grip the mic
The only way I’m slowin' down is if I blow a pound of Kryptonite
From now on I’m a bully, I’mma pick the fight
Let them pick you up off the ground when I chip ya bite
You’ll become a little memory: gigabyte
Me and these beats got married, I’m Mr. Right
Little man, you spit it aight
I’m on fire, you got a little buzz: Miller Lite
Man there’s so many words runnin' 'round my brain
If I don’t put them on a track I would go insane
Maybe that’s why everything I say is crazy
And everyday I wake up, with a naked lady
With a V.I.P.
band on my right wrist
Pants on the floor, J.D. with a slight sip left in the bottle
'Telly key on the nightstand
I go to the bathroom to pee, and then I scram
I live the life of a rock star
They ain’t wanna let me through, so I became a cop car
Put the sirens on every time I touch a pen
Everybody move like dope: that’s a fuckin' '10'
My peers know I’m gonna win
This music’s like my first crush, for years I wanted in
I’m here.
Oh boy will you taste the wrath
I’mma make it ugly like what’s underneath Jason’s mask
I listen to a lot of mixtapes and laugh
All y’all niggas do is whine like Jamaican ass
Every night I celebrate, we take a glass of champagne to the brain
Sometimes we take a bath
Victory feels far better
Than defeat;
you niggas weak: Solar’s Letter
I’m harder than the Fonz' leather
My worst rhyme’s 30 times rougher than your hottest bars ever
I could front like a car fender
Cause everything I’m on, DJs pull up like the bartenders
New York I’m the answer to your prayers
Head-nod music, leave the dancin' over there
Project shit, ain’t no mansion over here
Just murder on the strings, Charles Manson on the snare
I’m hungry;
the game’s like a food court
I just gave y’all a loose hundred: Newports
Chea
Joell Ortiz
Who feel they, who feel they better?