Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Swinging Swords, artist - KIllarmy. Album song Silent Weapons For Quiet Wars, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 04.08.1997
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Wu
Song language: English
Swinging Swords |
These rhythms can’t deface me Hot rhythms stimulate me Can’t help but swing it boy |
Swing it brother swing |
Don’t stop the beat that’s |
slapped this foolish brat |
Come on swing me boys |
Swing it brother swing |
Word up, let’s take 'em to war, son |
Show 'em how it should be done |
It’s real God |
Yeah, Yeah |
Stimulate the brain cells |
Check it, Check it Yo Killarmy bounty killers |
Industry kid shivers |
Shells up through your liver |
Dead corpse float the rivers |
Murderous style is superior from Shaolin to Nigeria |
Stalking through the monitor |
With the wisdom for dynamical professor |
Lyrical cannon processor |
Nat Turner was my militant ancestor |
I capture your mind put in isolation |
Control the soul automation |
Victims became mechanical slaves again |
Read the East Coast historian |
As you oppose this |
Your walking dead soldiers can’t get close to this |
I be splitting shit like Moses |
Then celebrate with Guns 'n Roses |
I turn soundtracks into startracks |
My tongue is symbolic to an axe |
I used to be caught up in the world of Mad Max |
Now come against the consequence of the 9th Prince |
I sit upon my throne and chop off domes |
Then send them home to your peoples |
So they can sew 'em |
Thoughts I generate like high forms of energy |
My brain’s energetic |
Ultramagnetic synthetic |
Burn like oil |
High octane let it drain upon the Shaolin soil |
You get trapped inside my rap coils |
Like my phalanges rip the microphone |
When I recite a war poem |
It’s writen in my soldier’s log |
It’s a Killarmy espionage |
Puerto Rican mobster in camouflage |
Perform at the Mirage my entourage |
Get the ticket through Telecharge as I massage lyrics get enlarged |
Grenade particles rip through your fatigue articles |
You flee for shelter |
My tre pound rounds’ll melt you |
Like camouflage vinyl in the force of Delta |
What, what, one time |
Come on, swing it Bring it, what |
Killarm, yeah, swing it The Gods gonna bring it Real, what |
Yo, yo You either get down shut the fuck up or catch an uppercut |
Rough enough to muffle up your jaw when we knuckle up Knuckle what? |
Bacardi hit me harder than you |
You crash dummies show respect when the Gods is coming through |
Eyes swollen up the size of coconuts |
Your body folding up Allah the soldier struck and through the cut I walk and hold you up Sit back hang from your hip like loose Kani’s |
Try to flip it on the strength of your wis’and let you slide |
Savage eighty five trying to test sides |
True we’re living thirty two shots |
We’re sending a rocket to your prison |
Caught you bubbling |
Like a cold sore the money coming in Juggling the church and street life you got me wonderng and catch 'em |
I let Allah bless 'em |
That’s the question |
You dealing with a madman’s profession |
So choose your weapon |
Word up, Killarmy |
Taking y’all to another war ground |
Hold down the battlefield, word up Shout outs to all my Universal Soldiers |
Killarmy, word up Deep Space 9, the Clan, word up Sunz of Man |
My nigga High Style, word up To all the soldiers in all the fifty two planets |
New York, Ohio |
Philadelphia, word up My Anna locked down Atlanta, for real |
Little Rock, Miami |
Pittsburgh, word up Washington D.C., upstate for real |
To all my juvenile niggas that’s locked up in Tober Center |
Word up, Ryker’s Island |
Peace to Big Queen (?) and Supreme |
Word up the God and General Wise |
General Wah |
Word up to the last soldiers |
My nigga Islord still locked down in the jungle, son |
Word up keep your sword up son, Killarmy gonna represent this shit, son |
Word up, peace |
Get out of here |
Peace |