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