Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Warrior's Drum, artist - King Just.
Date of issue: 15.05.1995
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Warrior's Drum |
Can I get the phat intro? |
This is how you was gon start it off? |
Yeah, knowhatimsayin? |
This is the God, the Drunken Monk, King Just |
Comin thru for the Shaolin crew |
Black Fist, yo hit 'em wit a uppercut |
Heya heya heya, huh |
Heya heya heya, huh |
Heya heya heya, huh |
Heya heya heya, huh |
Heya heya, can I get some? |
The sounds of the Warrior’s Drum |
On the warpath, don’t make me laugh |
Cuz you never in your life, wanna ever see the God’s wrath |
I’mma chief that smoke weed outta peace pipes |
Yo, bro, I’m half Indian, so you’re right |
I’mma about to show you wit my mic sword |
Yo Shaolin sling, come on raise the sword |
Charge, they all crowd from the Black Fist |
I got fronts in my mouth, that say battle at your own risk |
M.C.'s fall and they can’t get up |
I do the rap, why, yes that’s a cut |
Huh, right back at you, niggas better run |
Or feel the force of the Hell Razah’s gun |
Gupao, gupao, my style is wild chopped in the Shao' |
Zoo, aow, aow, I can flip it acapello |
I’ll make you jelly like Jell-O, figaro, figaro |
Who would think that the Just would go opera |
You could ask Hammer, he know my shit is popper |
Stopper, stopper, like Cuddy Ranks |
I’m takin money to bank, and my moms I like I’d like to thank |
Shaolin, Black Fist, they do the job |
And Just came back wit that ol' funky rhyme |
Bring it |
And there’s a thousand M.C.'s, lined up against the wall |
Timber, they all gonna fall |
Hassan Chop, yo I can’t stop |
Givin you that off the wall hip hop |
To ya ear, make ya wanna cheer |
Hallelujah, ch-ch grrrr, now I’m in second gear |
Yo, I’m out of here, to get the mo' tical |
From the Meth-Tical, hit the budd' tical |
Know I’m headed to the hotel |
But I’ll be pokin and strokin |
Yo the hair, got Tical, got a nigga open |
Hey daddy, who them those over there? |
Shaolin Soldiers, huh, wait a minute, no one told ya |
That I’m the nigga, that they call Stompy |
Who got the looks of a killa dead zombie |
I take 'em off, sure fast cannin ya tour |
They couldn’t catch my style if I was a baseball |
Bases loaded, and I got my back gun |
Blaow, boom, bang, oh shit a home run |
Bring it, if you want, cuz you really don’t amaze me |
Look who’s back, it’s the Hell Razah, raisin hell |
And I’ve been rockin rhymes, since niggas been rockin gazelles |
My slang can bang, so I guess I be the man |
You couldn’t hang wit my style, if you invented the Ku Klux Klan |
I’m like AT&T, I’mma reach ya through ya speaker |
I got more sole than a sneaker |
Asylum, I’m crazy, I guess I’m wildin |
My stylin, is the record straight from the Shaolin |
By the kiss of the Black Fist |
Shit is sick, here to make ya wanna drown a fish |
Under water, I’mma slaughter, like a change machine wit no quarter |
Out of order, run for the border |
The hardcore rap act is back |
I stick out like a thumbtack, I wipe niggas off the map |
And I rhyme to get paid, cuz when I raid |
I wouldn’t wanna hear ya style wit a hearing aid |
Straight up crook, meaner than Captain Hook |
Look out, look out, stomp like Bigfoot |
And I don’t give a fuck about a girl |
My crew is more crazy than Bebe Kids in fuckin Fun World |
I’m causin niggas doom, I mean sonic boom |
I’m fuckin stupid, I write rhymes in the boiler room |
Like Krugger, funky dope maneuver |
The Drunken Monk is so funky, they call me manure |
Horse shit, I flip shit, oh my God, I rip shit |
I talk shit, no one can shit, like I shit |
Shit like this, get you upset |
Because the shit that I was singin, was pumpin through ya projects |
How much types must I say shit? |
Well, if the shit ain’t worth the shit |
Then I don’t wanna be wit the shit |
And then you be like «Oh shit, he flipped it» |
Now ain’t that some shit kid? |
Herb like this, mound up and roll it out |