| En garde, draw your weapon, put it to a test
|
| I’m a swordfish that’ll carve a P in your chest
|
| I shit on rookies and pee on the best
|
| Do it to Def like Mos did, when he had no kids
|
| And I refuse to lose my hunger, I’ll eat 'til I get so big
|
| It’ll look like I got no ribs
|
| I’m not scared of these thugs that bust blank shots like they don’t jizz
|
| Fo' shizz, half of you don’t know what dope is
|
| Here’s the prime example, exhibit A
|
| I collide a candle just by rhymin' at you, so I spit away
|
| Spit split wigs—not a barber but I give a fade like scissor blades
|
| Lyrics spray and ricochet off your frickin' face
|
| I’m in the place like I just got reprimanded
|
| So strong—when I give pounds, dudes get mad ‘cause I’m heavy-handed
|
| This is high-powered, full voltage, tilt the meter
|
| From a swordfish that’ll poke a hole in your speaker
|
| Me and Roc Marc' stop y’all with hot darts
|
| That sizzle through your vest, making a mess of a cop’s heart
|
| On top charts with all them platinum plaques
|
| The phantom is back, shaking cats with the cantankerous scrap |
| You swimming with sharks that smell the blood on your clothes
|
| And remember when in my zone, hell is hot and heaven’s closed
|
| This is Pumpkinhead repping The Plague—that's my unit
|
| Brooklyn Ac’s my group and, always, the movement
|
| Can you catch it? |
| Got it, caught it. |
| Can you spit it hot, retarded?
|
| Can you flip it back and forth, rip a track in half and toss it?
|
| Do it 'til there’s no one left, from the stage to the office
|
| You a guppy in hot water, duelin' with a pair of swordfish
|
| Yo, look up, nigga. |
| I spit that shit
|
| , under the armpit
|
| Roll dope, bump, blao! |
| Let off a cartridge
|
| You don’t want no conflict, my squad is heartless (yeah!)
|
| Mean swagger, fight game like Marvin Hagler
|
| Save all that abracadabra
|
| Half-ass rap blabber, hack off a rat’s bladder
|
| For that matter, jeah!
|
| I rip it and run it across states
|
| Gripping the gun in my North Face
|
| Slip you the tongue and it’s all cake
|
| Skip court dates. |
| Y’all like to portray
|
| It’s more clear than broad day
|
| Came a long way from slinging in hallways
|
| Two for five, not treys. |
| Utilized the mind, got paid |
| , rock the fine grain when my time came
|
| Write rhymes with wide range—it's a mind game
|
| Roll the footage—this is as good as it gets
|
| All the niggas in your hood’ll get hit (blao!)
|
| With all them bullets up in the clip
|
| I can make positive music, but that ain’t how I do it
|
| Politics won’t destruct the movement. |
| Swallow dick fluid
|
| All that good shit—hollow tips included
|
| Getting suited with two model bitches that’s Cuban
|
| Harpooning ‘em like Cupid, stupid
|
| Can you catch it? |
| Got it, caught it. |
| Can you spit it hot, retarded?
|
| Can you flip it back and forth, rip a track in half and toss it?
|
| Do it 'til there’s no one left, from the stage to the office
|
| You a guppy in hot water, duelin' with a pair of swordfish
|
| This is Roc Marc', PH
|
| Pumpkinhead, what up, my nigga?
|
| Marco Polo on the track
|
| It’s like that
|
| Yeah. |
| Yo, we not sonning people no more, man
|
| We making y’all our Padawans, ya heard?
|
| You my young Padawan
|
| Yeah, Marco Polo remix
|
| Swordfish! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Swordfish Remix , by - Pumpkinhead. Song from the album One Dub Plate At A Time: A History of Soulspazm, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп