Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Writer, artist - KIllarmy. Album song Prince Of New York, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 10.11.2008
Record label: Babygrande
Song language: English
The Writer |
| Word up, some laid back, type Killa raps |
| Yo… |
| I’m a writer, rhyme ignitor |
| Lyrical sniper, shoot up your rhymin' cypher |
| Mushrooms get me hyper, face the piper |
| Rich niggas do a drive-by in a Dodge Viper |
| Aiyo, I move like the Bionic Man, built like The Incredible Hulk |
| The streets listen when I talk |
| You just a devil in disguise, with a mic as a pitchfork |
| Come against the lyrical lord, we can take it to the guns and swing swords |
| So look deep into the eyes of a killa, Gaten Island, cap pealers |
| Raps is realer than silver back gorillas |
| We thugs from a great complex, lyrical Nat Turner |
| Staten Island money earners, 9th Prince with the burner |
| Whether inspector’s, wanna search my bulletproof Lex Coupe |
| Desert Eagle stashed in my fireman’s boots |
| Runnin' with four hundred Brooklyn troops |
| Dressed in all suits like the Nation of Islam |
| Shoot somethin' in your veins and watch you die calm |
| Like a dope addict, my automatic’ll lift your back like Craftmatic |
| Like a cellphone with no signal, givin' niggas static |
| Don’t get caught up in the hot jam, shit is a scam |
| Predictable like the Wu not invited to Summer Jam |
| I’m sick of niggas trynna sell me a dream with weak schemes |
| Killarm', the 18, rap guns is like M-16's, everybody flee the scene |
| No matter the producer, I still get looser than Medusa |
| Neptunes or Dr. Dre, my lyrics, the beat’s executioner |
| Inspired by The RZA, I’m calm like James Bond, city slum scramblers |
| I was raised in the ghetto slammer |
| 9th Prince is like Max Payne and Jack’s Hammer |
| I’m known to be the flow’er, but now call me Thor, let it flow like Noah |
| Shoot you in your shoulder leave you with a handicap composure |
| Madman exposure, got niggas movin' like doljias |
| And it’s over, it’s over, it’s over, straight over |
| You know what the poet said: |
| «Through the travail of ages, midst the pomp and toils of war |
| Have I fought and strove and perished countless times upon a star.» |
| The age-old strife I see? |
| Do you know who the poet was? |
| Me |