| Yeah
|
| Outerspace baby
|
| It’s Vinnie Paz
|
| Blood and ashes
|
| We came a long way, baby
|
| Yo Planet
|
| Tell these motherfuckers what the deal is cousin
|
| Let em know daddy
|
| I wouldn’t even know how to live this dream
|
| Without my kids, my cream, my wiz, my team
|
| Without a means of scheme no underground scene
|
| No hustle, no struggle, or the shit in between
|
| Without a fan base or stores that scan tapes
|
| And it only make me stronger when another man hate
|
| You can’t escape, everything I spit 6 feet
|
| And I bet you ain’t think that I could get this deep
|
| Let me explain: thoughts bringing treacherous pain
|
| I’mma get these Bill Gates numbers next to my name
|
| Even if it takes leaving niggas wet in the rain
|
| I’mma aim at their hearts and souls to get fame
|
| I’m an artist, starving it explains my reign
|
| But I promise you motherfuckers that shit gon' change
|
| We still, traveling through space and time
|
| Same clique, same fam, same frame of mind
|
| My lines crush, in hopes I’mma leave my mind plush
|
| With diamonds plus I do it til my time is up
|
| We attacking your region, it’s massacre season
|
| Warchild, where you at I’m only half of the reason
|
| We came a long way, been to space and back
|
| From the hallways and right through the basement cracks
|
| We’re here to take over every place on the map
|
| We some real rude niggas put your face on the map
|
| I wouldn’t even know how to live my life
|
| Without my kid, my wiz, my crib, my ice
|
| Without my dick, my whip, no clip no knife
|
| Without a chance to uplift and spit precise
|
| It’s a cold world, rocky road, don’t roll the dice
|
| If you can’t lay the change on the table it’s only right
|
| I need one mic
|
| One chance and one glance
|
| One fight
|
| One dance to become champ
|
| Word to Lyrical
|
| Verb vanisher swallow your fronts when I lose patience
|
| My people say I need to chill, breathing stop
|
| Homie I’d rather cleave your grill til the bleeding stop
|
| And I’mma set freeze and chills til my sleeves is rocked
|
| And I’mma proceed to build until I reach the top
|
| Call it what you want, if you feel the need to plot
|
| I got the perimeter locked from block to block
|
| I spit sick literature, hot for you to cop
|
| Fingertips on hollow cylinders cock to make you drop, bitch
|
| I’m toxic, chemical warfare, beware
|
| I’m frontline nigga, with one rhyme I’m there
|
| We came a long way, been to space and back
|
| From the hallways and right through the basement cracks
|
| We’re here to take over every place on the map
|
| We some real rude niggas put your face on the map
|
| Yeah
|
| It’s fucking Outerspace
|
| Raw shit, hardcore shit
|
| What’s the fucking deal
|
| It’s fucking Vinnie Paz baby
|
| It ain’t a game out here
|
| AOTP, punching y’all in the fucking face
|
| This shit is hardcore, out of my heart core
|
| Na mean?
|
| Blood and ashes
|
| Crypt the Warchild
|
| Planetary
|
| AOTP
|
| King Syze
|
| What’s the fucking deal?
|
| Keep it moving baby
|
| It’s our motherfucking year
|
| Y’all might as well fall the fuck back
|
| Or face the fucking repercussions
|
| It’s fucking over x4
|
| Yeah
|
| You fucking crumbs, maggots, fucking worms, fucking noodles
|
| Fuck ya’ll |