| Chorus: u-god
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| You can’t hack the tactics
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| Of a semi-automatic full rap fanatic
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| You can’t hack the tactics
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| Of a semi-automatic full rap fanatic
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| Verse one: u-god
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| I make mean lean when I pump my spunk
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| And hands of chump, of machine gun funk
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| I bliss, like the fist, of the mantis
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| Those who oppose get dropped and hit the canvas
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| With rigormor', I hit you in the core and
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| Pop your legs well in the figure four
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| You can’t stop the force when the blood is coursin
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| Extortion, I’m comin like the headless horseman
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| Enforcin, tortureous slang from a fortune
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| Swordsman, throw your rap corpse in coffins
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| Don’t pop Glocks at me then cop a plea
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| A hundred thousand leagues beneath the sea
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| Deep depths makes rappers salted
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| Weak rappers asses I cracks my foot, off in
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| Lay down them lines with them hard hits
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| And I’m harmin, bombin, with heavy bombardments
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| Pushin, poetry, like weed by the pounds
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| Underground railroad rza track lay it down
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| I’m hard as pavement, you gaze from amazement
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| Knock you in the head you wonder where the days went
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| It’s golden bangles, microphone getting strangled
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| Five-star general, scars you want to angle
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| Bizarre thriller, war scar for a killer
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| Sheisty mic device got my hand-piece throbbin
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| Slice mics precise on down to ice carvings
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| Verse two: inspector deck
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| Yo
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| I set the mic in flames, bomb like fighter planes
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| Mc’s are shot down long range with sniper aim
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| No question marks, the session starts with sparks
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| My flows explodes like hand grenades through your parts
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| Universal soldier, mo’s the holder
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| Globe in both hands, born to be sole controller
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| Hit the world full blast, my crime pays cash
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| Slip past these cyphers and the flash from the photograph
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| Best-seller compose a rough draft
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| Razor sharp vocabulary cut glass
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| Actual facts crowds of thousands collapse
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| You can’t catch my style with bugs and phone taps
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| Whether rhymes or crimes, I want mines regardless
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| Hard targets, underground like black markets
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| Pirates of the darkest water feel the aura
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| Importer of rough raps that’s snuck cross the border
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| Semi-automatic attack’ll spray y’all
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| Liquid sword swingin slay all, I’m awol
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| Verse three: street thug
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| Wu-tang be, killin you softly with this song
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| You won’t survive the outcome I bring def jams to your eardrums
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| P.l.o. |
| hits the hardest, regardless
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| Felony offenders catchin murder one charges
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| Open cases, got me smoked out in staircases
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| The dark crusader jackin cats in elevators
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| I strike back like the jedi, from n. |
| y
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| It’s I illifyin, dope rhyme supplyin
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| I be all you need to rock these mic devices
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| Projectile shaolin style exiles your juvenile freestyle
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| I’m not your basic street entrepeneuer, crime tour, packs the luger
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| High pursuit for the cream like the bodyguard from bejing
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| Inject you with the morphine, then I flee the murder scene
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| On your facilities, the penalty, doa
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| Bomb shell your burrow like bombay
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| Opposites attack that’s why these thieves stay strapped
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| As we, travel the glove to put shaolin on the map
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| I show loyalty, to my fans fully
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| Operational raps, that bust through your skully
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| I’m rated second-to-none I be the top gun
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| From the land of the slums spittin blades from my tongue
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| Park your slug slinger, hit you with the sleeper
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| Hit-seeker, sounds that be a-ttackin your speaker
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| Watch me bang the headpiece kid there’s no survival
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| My flow lights up the block like a homicidal
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| Murder, underground beef for the burger
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| P.l.o., criminal thoughts you never heard of |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Semi Automatic: Full Rap Metal Jacket , by - Street Life. Song from the album Wu-Chronicles, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп