Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Dragon Fire, artist - R.A. The Rugged Man. Album song All My Heroes Are Dead, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 16.04.2020
Record label: Nature Sounds
Song language: English
Dragon Fire |
| You’re not dead! |
| I’m a killer, that’s why, killers don’t die so easy! |
| Even though your so-called loyal clans all got together |
| And tried to kill me! |
| Hahahaha! |
| Ah! |
| Ghost Face Killer! |
| Yo, we got killer Glocks, loaded up with killer shots |
| To killer cops, playin' the block with killer rocks |
| High-voltage guns that let off kilowatts |
| Big Cee-Lo games that only got killer knots |
| Nothin' but killers in here that’ll straight kill your career |
| The bullshit is killin' my ears |
| Kill a red carpet, geared to kill a premiere |
| This is Ghostface Killah, no killer would dare |
| Killer fashion, watch how I kill 'em with rolls |
| With the classic Wallabees with the colorful soles |
| My killer actions leave fake killers exposed |
| There’s no relaxin' when you see my killers on patrol |
| We got killers on parole that’s real ill since Bill Bill |
| That’ll fuck around and kill Bill |
| Born in the killer Stapletown thriller |
| Ghostface Killah, yo, it only get realer |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Once upon a time, we was labeled the murder capital |
| Ear wide velour, FILA suit with the cable |
| Do or die, kill or be killed, streets are murder |
| Ninja mask, killers on bikes, get your man lift |
| Sock on the toe of the Bally for the gearshift |
| Adrenaline pump the pulse, killer instinct |
| Trigger finger start to itch, my bad eye twitch |
| Cut from the fabric of the raw lyric |
| These are the rules, got a fam of killers that don’t snitch |
| Quiet killers like carbon monoxide when doves cry |
| Masta Killa mic assassin, you all die |
| Slow, I move in silence, you won’t hear a peep |
| Killers that’ll kill you for real in one heartbeat |
| Slid to get y’all weak, we kill concrete |
| Spin it back and catch the beat, I squeeze mic heat |
| Hah, I squeeze my heat |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| R.A. |
| The-The-The Rugged Man! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Why me? |
| Wanna fight me? |
| Try me |
| Every record label sucks dick |
| Eyes Wide Shut masquerade, got wild dancin' |
| I’m in the moshpit at the Rothschild mansion |
| I’m Corman, Orson, Thorburn, John Boorman |
| The living baptism in the river of Jordan |
| Rock bells when I kick the gospel, gods fell |
| Abort rappers like Kermit Gosnell, I’m not well |
| Black gestapos, white broncos, drop those |
| When the Glock blows, turn your face into potholes |
| Always had the hot flows since a booger snotnose |
| Mama couldn’t afford us, she shoulda kept her twat closed |
| Fill a stadium, baby Damien |
| I’ll sell a weapon to an Iranian, then I’ll sell a Russian uranium |
| Beretta sever the head of the negative, never let 'em live |
| I’ll put you to bed like Mr. Huxtable with a sedative |
| I am the filthy dirty degenerate representative, a Juice Crew |
| Terror to the era terrorist |
| No they won’t protect ya, the throne of The Bone Collector |
| Bullet to the dome, welcome to the home of Phil Spector |
| I toss 'em and flip 'em, ragdoll status |
| The murder, the madness of Mad Dog Mattis |
| Sing |
| You are wit' R.A. |
| de Don Gorgon |
| 'Longside Xx3eme de yardman |
| Rifle spit fire like dragon |
| Quickly send dem to de Lord and |
| Who dem ah dis? |
| Who dem ah dis? |
| (Yah!) |
| Who dem ah dis? |
| Who dem ah dis? |
| (Yah!) |
| Food haffi eat, dawgs never miss (Nah!) |
| We send dem a mile, they gon' reminisce |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Juice Crew All-Stars, oh my goodness |
| Juice Crew All-Stars, oh my goodness |
| G Rap’s known 'cause I’m bad to the bone |
| I kill 'em executioner style! |
| I’m Kool G Rap |
| I’m Kool G Rap, poison |
| G ran with the thieves and the bandits |
| Toast click, don’t make me leave you in transit |
| Don’t even think about seizin' no chances |
| This shit make birds flee from they branches |
| If it ain’t cheese where your hands is |
| We gon' leave you like Christopher Reeves in some Pampers |
| Don’t sneeze, and you panic or breathe |
| When we stand at reach and you gon' bleed on your dandruff |
| Close steel, better hold still |
| They gon' find you with left with no grill like you’re roadkill |
| Flashin' lights in the night, not from camera shots |
| Those the type from the ice in the random shops |
| Where the mothers come and candle blocks |
| Bodies rot in abandoned lots |
| Helicopters and the vans is SWAT, cannibalism, scams and plots |
| Vandalism, grams and rocks |
| Stay in the kitchen, handle pots, handle riches, hammer’s cocked |
| Man in prison, man forgot |
| Tattoo teardrop and the can pop |
| Don’t stop, won’t stop, hip hop can’t stop |
| You are wit' R.A. |
| de Don Gorgon |
| 'Longside Xx3eme de yardman |
| Rifle spit fire like dragon |
| Quickly send dem to de Lord and |
| Who dem ah dis? |
| Who dem ah dis? |
| (Yah!) |
| Who dem ah dis? |
| Who dem ah dis? |
| (Yah!) |
| Food haffi eat, dawgs never miss (Nah!) |
| We send dem a mile, they gon' reminisce |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Juice Crew All-Stars, oh my goodness |
| Juice Crew All-Stars, oh my goodness |