Lyrics The Bumrush - RYU, Ryu feat. Gravity Christ, Tak (SOB)

The Bumrush

Uh, I’m going to on 'em
Yeah, I got a little surprise for 'em
Open up the all-seeing eye on 'em
Kill 'em all, throw a little lime on 'em
You know I get busy in this bitch huh
That’s why the competition never says shit huh
Keep your trap shut, homie it’s bad luck
They’ll find you chopped up in the back of a trash truck
The illest, ask us we came to kill it
You burn a village and stay just to rape and pillage
You know that feeling you get when you about to catch a body?
That’s the feeling I get when I walk into a party
I’m a monster — Ryu — but I’m more like Blanka
Going bonkers, break bones, destroy your car
Number one chief rocker, I’m the lord of the underground
I die every day, come alive when the sun’s down
The bumrush
They step to me but can’t stop the bumrush
Hey yo it’s easy for me to be unoptimistic literally
Even if I’m thirsty the glass is half full to me
I’m looking at the rest like it’s just air and opportunity
You’re just another reason for me to pull out my toolery
Croonery in my veins assumably interchange
A dungeon created Bane so how can you think he’s sane
I hit the open lane I’m Larry Csonka
Trucks tip Tonka, flip your little Honda
Filling up my trunk with pumps and lame chumps
Hitting all the bumps, I’m swerving way drunk
You see the sneakers in the back
Defeat em, I got it bad
I mean business, MC’s get a suit and a tag
State to state I’m dragging bacon by the pig boy
They fuck with me cause I murder all the killjoys
You know the feeling when I’m whooping that ass
We stay ready for the bumrush, heat in the dash
Just in time for the face-off
Funny how they thought this little giant fell asleep
Nah, colours on the move, I ain’t changed
Better time to unleash boy
Bodies on the street cause I can always smell the beef
And fresh food is part of my next move
you parakeets kill and crush groove
Yeah that’s Tak, hear that?
Scat and clear that block
Cause I’m selfish watch, ain’t no way I’d share that spot
Man I’m slicker than Lionel Richie in peril
From the sand your blood’s dripping like whisky in the barrel
With a fantasy, now let’s be honest and never hide the fact
That most of you little clowns ain’t down with this type of rap
Now I don’t give an F cause I’m not even impressed
I don’t bother with styles, solid product of intellect
So any time I speak my people give me respect
Yeah split 'em with one push, this ain’t no fun stuff
The bumrush