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