
Date of issue: 21.07.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
War |
Who in the world want war |
With this thorough Philly boar |
Underground like the earth’s core |
I took the elevator up to the first floor |
What in life do you search for? |
What have you been put on this earth for? |
How much of America’s money are we getting paid to work for? |
Corporate conglomerate, ?? |
link becoming dominant |
I’m an MC you don’t wanna have a problem with |
I speak spuriously, sign and shine gloriously |
Spitting vomit that’s thicker than mucous |
Paint oil pictures of the future clearer than George Lucas |
To the day that we all become human computers |
And freedom of speech will be obsolete cause we be muted |
Yo, I eats, sleeps and breathes raw inner city music |
The flow that I spits is not to be confused with |
Commercial radio rap put out for your amusement |
God gave me a brain so I’mma use it |
Who in the world want war (7X) |
With this thorough Philly boar |
I gets do-o-own like the diaboloical B-I-Z M-izza M-izza-A-R-K-I-E |
Trapped behind these bars of life, can’t say that I’m free |
Cause when I wake up, hell on earth every day I see |
In this 360-degree sphere of fear, beware |
Of things falling near, and stay prepared for the worst |
So much vital information you could find in each verse |
Before I die I bury my rhymes beneath the dirt |
Indestructible,? |
on God’s green earth |
Your local war machines, like me, can’t be hurt |
Catch me in the Library of Congress doing research |
In DC, in a P.E. |
«Fight the Power» t-shirt |
Copyrighting everything I write, so y’all can’t bite |
I’m here to shed light, ain’t no stopping with a red light |
Hip-hop heads get hyped — it’s Kev Turner |
No relation to Ike, when I strike I might murder |
Q dimensions stay coming off |
Like female porno star’s panties and bras |
Pop Dukes, old school, straight «son"ning y’all |
With new school lyrical tools leavin you stuck without a gun to draw |
You don’t wanna ball with these words, they hit hard |
Doin away with? |
, then punk bruises and scars |
Gang war, you better call it a truce, use your smarts |
I’m two thousand and two tons of lyrical art |
That’ll crush your heart and discourage your courage |
Destroy your sole purpose on this eartly surface |
The rawest, I’m flawless call me Mr. Perfect |
Cock back, my style goes off on the track, straight murk it |
We the current that circles through the underground circuit |
Fill the streets full with serpents that feel life is worthless |
When it’s really just as precious as birth is, but first things first |
Drown in the depths of the sounds of these verses |
*scratched to end* |
Name | Year |
---|---|
Changing Lanes ft. CHOPS | 2003 |
Special Forces ft. CHOPS, Planet Asia, Rasco | 2000 |
Thoroughbred ft. CHOPS | 2003 |
U Know Who It Is | 2003 |
Niggarachi ft. CHOPS | 2003 |
Comin' from the Lower Level ft. Ras Kass, Phil Da Agony, CHOPS | 2003 |