| We are at war with the enemy we can’t see
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| A brutal conspiracy of assassination
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| Kidnappings, bombings, hijackings and mass murders
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| Leave the Girl alone, leave alone!!!
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| There’s a battle ragin' fueled by desperation, hatred and fear
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| Now the principal language spoken here is gunfire
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| It is a world war lead by holy men, madmen and millions of disciples
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| Willing to die for their cause their strategy is worldwide terrorism
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| It’s time to go to war niggas
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| Get the bulletproof vests niggas
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| Word up
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| Grab yo' army suits and your fat black boots
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| Military gear and go out like troops
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| Yo, yo, yo
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| All rhymes is mad raw nigga, metaphors pour from my jaws
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| Lyric sauce, got high with fly sounds bound the floors
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| It’s war, for all you rap acts with wack comebacks
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| I back gats and Glock four-fifths, to be exact
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| Like that kid strikes to yo' knot, one shot
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| I bang slang to yo' brain get you open off top
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| On some What What! |
| nigga, take that and then some
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| Sin’s dumb when it comes to tracks and phat drums
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| I yum hum lyrical tunes that boom
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| Crush consume brains leaving your veins, sporting puncture wounds
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| And the bock, blazing hot Glock
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| Grazing ya knot, cock the killshot, it’s millitant bumbaclaats
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| Ya, wan test nigga, best be on Meths, G
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| I blast fast and shatter that ass just like Plexiglas
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| Fool, last tool shiped with dime
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| Homicide collide with energize thoughts from Park Side
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| Apartheid split yo' vest from yo' chest
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| My complex style be wild enough tough like rough sex
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| Or roughnecks, I dedicate this track to the suspects (yeah!)
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| The real live niggas ain’t afraid to bust Tecs
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| Seven soldiers, militant darkness for heavenly niggas in heaven
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| Strap with the holy mack elevens
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| We turn to devils and poison your reverends
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| Razorblade stash is out the bible
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| Stuck to the church of the madman on a vital
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| I conquer your armor and the battle of honor, seven man contra
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| Dead maybe cause for this strategy fight his bomber
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| My thoughts is elevated,
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| So speak to some mamas, two places devil plated
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| I take off the heads of those who worship Adam and Eve
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| From the garden of Eden, follow the prince of thieves
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| I aim the God-U at a lyrical burglar
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| And surprise them from killin' like Cain did the first murder
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| Grab yo' army suits and your fat black boots
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| Military gear and go out like troops
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| Silent Weapons, instruments of combat
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| Used in quiet wars when I attack
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| MC’s become P.O.W.'s missing in action
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| Shogun the Assassin, strikes with rage when I engage
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| In Street Wars. |
| with neighborhood drug lords
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| Legendary weaponry like crossbows
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| Bows and arrows get aimed at foes
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| And penetrates trough the skin
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| But first through your clothes
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| My platoons uniform is Timbos and camos
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| Night’s dark you’re being followed
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| Like dark shadows commandos with empty ammo
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| We are the men in war, refugees from Jeff County
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| Army of black knights, sinners 'til the death strikes
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| Grab yo' army suits and your fat black boots
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| Military gear and go out like troops
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| One with the killa and the clan, I came with the scam
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| A foo-proof plan and death to colored men
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| Climate using rays from the sun
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| Dom Pachino, Madman, Assassin tracks with Shogun… |