Lyrics Style Wars - Masta Ace Incorporated

Style Wars - Masta Ace Incorporated
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Style Wars, artist - Masta Ace Incorporated. Album song SlaughtaHouse, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2011
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: The Bicycle Music Company
Song language: English

Style Wars

Check it out and
Check it out and a, X4
It’s the Ricky, here we go, ticky, 'tavi'(?)
Yo my dick be, brown like Robbie
I’ll be fryin'
Heads with my scientifical
Mind, your brain cells are fryin'
Flying, flackin', packin' a tour
Mackin', jackin', smackin' a whore
So fuck Lodi Dodi or, any other hottie, uh
I get wrecked like the planes at La Guardia
I’m rowdy like Roddy Piper, I’m hyper
Type of guy to let it fly like a sniper
Viper, flashin', slashin' a verse and
Here’s more nigga-nigga, black like a hearse and
Cursin' crazy, dirty ass mouth
My dick is longer than 95-South
Damn, I’m teed off like Howie, like Roxanne I’m real
Plus I’m the Master who talk what he feel
Like a eel, electrifyin', I’m tryin' to
Stop the madness, the black man is dyin'
Word up, dialect for the dome
I live in a cage but the cage ain’t my home
I’m a chrome down and a wide body kit
I’m bold like that shit you wash your clothes with
So sit down and check how I am
But that’s not who I am
Hut one, hut two, hut three, hut four
That is the sound when it’s time to go to war X4
Follow me and
Follow me and a
Everybody, everybody, follow me and a X2
You wanna go to war with the nigga then you’re sick
I’m quick with the hut one, two that I kick
Ass, pumpin' like gas through your town
And I won’t turn my jungle music down
You can call it what you want but I came to cause a commotion
Check out the flow son, you might get the notion
To run but you cannot hide, there’s no escapin'
The super-duper, hero with a cape and
Your son bought my tape and
You’re wanted for raping, my mother
My culture, you just left a gapin' hole
I’m in control like Marley
I’m crashing my jeep into your bullshit Harley
So get off the road rednecks here I come
With a hundred-and-twenty-one kids from the slums, gettin' dumb
Brooklyn, the Bronx, Watts, Queens, Compton, and 20 other spots
Yo, I be writin' up the mad composition
Mission to uplift black man’s position
Then go fishin', and catch me a whale
A great big white one, and put him on sale
If I fail, I’m gonna go back, and
Put 'em in jail, and make 'em smoke crack, and
Get 'em off track and, even up the score
Attack his daughter, and treat her like a whore
Fool!
Masta Ace is the kid
Makin' sure that the punk mother F’ers get did
Hut one, hut two, hut three, hut four
That is the sound when it’s time to go to war X4
Follow me and
Follow me and a
Everybody, everybody, follow me and… X4
That is the sound when it’s time to go to war X8

Share lyrics:

Write what you think about the lyrics!

Other songs of the artist:

NameYear
Terror 2011
Born To Roll 2011
Jack B. Nimble 2011
Eastbound 2011
Da Answer 2011
Sittin' On Chrome 2011
What's Going On! 2011
People In My Hood 2011
The Phat Kat Ride 2011
The I.N.C. Ride 2011
Freestyle ? 2011
The Big East 2011
4 Da Mind ft The Cella Dwellas ft. Cella Dwellas 2011
The B-Side 2011
Slaughtahouse 2011
Intro 2011
Saturday Nite Live 2011
Ain't No Game 2011
Turn It Up 2011
Jeep Ass Niguh 2011

Artist lyrics: Masta Ace Incorporated