Lyrics War Games - O.C., Organized Konfusion

War Games

War Games
War Games
Intro: O.C.
Uh yeah uh uh uh
What, Crooklyn Dodger Number 2
O.C., yeah back in the scene muthafucka
Me and Premo, you know, East New York
Bushwick, Bedstuy, and all those good places
Yo My main frame, discipline like a soldier
Ready for war, pushups get my chest swoll up What’s the deal Preme?
I mean the scaze
I think I got it locked in nigga, War Games is the theme
Rap commando, what’s my handle
O.C.
&le to rock shit
Battle niggas who pop shit
Green bareen thought slicka
I’m one step ahead, slide thru enemy lines like a black ack figga
Camouflage, runnin thru you zone with detection
Cuz the dark skinned marksmen
Run thru your section
Flesh ya bones, physical built like titanium
Bugs cover my grill like Iranians
Ill gorilla so called killas
I fear no man but Allah, for the god is he is still in us The Renaissance Man, I roll with real like grenade
sharp like gem stars
Cause massive scars
O.C.'s all in it, dope I’ve been for years
Now I’m back in the scene, and I declare War Games
I bust off like a M-16
Rippin thru screens from head to toe, blood soak up your jeans
Rap veteran, earn my stripes, faught wars
Opposing forces, would O.C.
take losses?
Naucious, you feelin kinda like throwing up Cautious, watch ya step, land rhymes blowin up Havin a pity for foes, fuck G.I.
Joe
He’s a sucker, slap the taste outta wild motherfuckas
Design a rhyme, like a plan for the government
Six Million like Steve Austin, costin
Apprehended if I am
In times and my body will erupt *explosion*
M-16 tapecatin, voids filled with ammo
Bust it through a crowd, a bitch nigga sing soprano
When I get you in the square, then I end you career
All MC’s lets make one thing clear
You’re all the same, I will remain, fuck the fame
Feelin the lane to shoot, I declare War Games
Chorus 2X: Organized Konfusion (Pharoahe Monch &Prince Poetry)
I declare War Games
For niggas who flaunt figgas for more fame
Gorilla warfare, tactics issue unlimited access to ammo
With fire proof camouflage and power
Precise pinpoint it, pull it, when I cock back
This here rap will slap you and your team, and that bad bitch
Sleaves from my uncut, raw like cope
Preme dig up boys, roll up and smoke
Then toge it, back to B.I.
See I can do this, I’m professional
Too much weight to weigh any style
Dutch Master superior blend, inhale me right
Young Phillies take a toke of my rap, and get the
Willies para-
Noid, niggas all non void
Fuck with O.C., get your life destroyed
Like a marine, I’m a trained rap killing machine
Fiend to rock a mic, set from New York to New Orleans
Over seas I conquer, rough like blanca
Love to eat actors, gotta take for drama
When I flow I get comatose
In my own world
From the first verse, you saw my plan unfurl
I mean team same name, never change
My ammo is the demo competition on the mic
War Games
War Games (5X)