Lyrics War! - Quadeca, DAX

War!

You ain’t a part of this, usin' my artifice
I put my heart in this
Look where I started, I ain’t need a starter kit (No, no)
I’ve been a starter since in kindergarten, and
Who are you harder than?
You are not harder than me (Huh?)
I changed my numbers, I’m harder to reach (Who?)
I turn my pages, I’m harder to read
Say you know me, but I find that hard to believe (Yeah)
Oh
Sorry I’m not nice (Sorry)
They like, «Oh, he just came through in some Nikes!»
But these shits is Off-Whites (Hehe, yeah)
They all be buggin' when I go up off of the top
Like I got lice, huh
I turn this shit Freaky Friday;
I’ll make you think you in the wrong life, huh (You in the wrong, wrong life)
You in the wrong life, bitch
Media painted the wrong light, uh
Hard to hide up in the spotlight
She do anythin' for me, I’m a Klondike, bitch
I live two lives when I’m online, offline, everythin' on the line
Fuck all the clout, this is not 'bout a dollar sign
Bottom line, that’s just the bottom line
Pulled up, you stood, sayin' nothin', just like you forgot your lines (Yeah)
Ayy, bitch!
These shoes are from Christian Dior, yeah (Huh)
I’m not a kid anymore, huh (No, I’m not, bitch)
Look at what I did to the store (What I did)
They don’t make this anymore, huh (They do not!)
They don’t make shit like this anymore (They do not!)
If you gon' try to diss, best be sure, huh (Best be sure, huh)
Cleanin' up rappers, this shit a chore (Sweep, sweep)
If you want war then it’s war, bitch (Then it’s war, huh)
Bitch (It's Dax!)
Niggas want beef, put it in a caption (Phew)
Niggas want tweet, never 'bout rappin' (Haha!)
I was in the trap when they ask me, «What happened?»
I gripped on a TEC, «Sorry, man», now, I’m blastin' (Hahahaha!)
What I said when he panic
Blood on my shirt, yeah, new fashion (Ooh!)
Just bought a whip, and I ran to the mansion (Skrrt!)
And flex on a bitch, and I pop with this handgun
One shot and you dead, uh (*gunshot*)
HB two pencil ass nigga
'Cause I always got lead, uh (I got what?)
Two free throws, two shots
One chest, one to your head, uh (Goner)
9−1-1, speed dial, man down
That’s what I said («9−1-1, what’s your emergency?»)
Who you know was a janitor
Went and got rich, copped a whip that you peel off the lot?
(Lot)
Who you know would be a thug?
Who would murder a nigga, then talk and go move like Barack?
('Rack)
Who you know got a jumper like Curry
And dunk on a nigga like Shaq on the block?
(Block)
Who you know, got a-
Heh, you don’t know nobody, uh (Haha, yeah!)
These shoes are from Christian Dior, huh, yeah (Huh)
I’m not a kid anymore, yeah (No, I’m not, bitch)
Look at what I did to the store (What I did)
They don’t make this anymore, uh (They do not!)
They don’t make shit like this anymore (They do not!)
If you gon' try to diss, best be sure, uh (Best be sure, uh)
Cleanin' up rappers, this shit a chore (Sweep, sweep)
If you want war then it’s war bitch (Then it’s war)
Pew!