| Yo, yo, yo, yo
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| Vendetta inside, swiftly start stabbin
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| One second to meltdown, feel the twin cannons
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| Burn, handgun herns, standin firm
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| Return from mega-death, I’ll tell you what’s left
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| Dilemma, Earth tremor, up by man
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| With the Grand Canyon rap, U dynamic wingspan
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| The Power from the Clan, yo, is more than fantastic
|
| Pull pins out the hazard, on this Battlestar Galactic'
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| Skull tactic, sporatic, Asiatic, long awaited
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| Son of Sam, mention the mic mutated
|
| You hated us, cuz we immortal on wax
|
| Rip the China White shit, flip a dynamite ax
|
| Shillac em perhaps, the heart pump an anti-toxin
|
| Feed me the Power, meteor shower when I’m boxin
|
| Professional vets, now comin through vexed
|
| I’m testin you vets, what you claimin that you best?
|
| The S on your chest, better stand for Super-stress
|
| And Leathaface pressed, next, here to set you
|
| REC! |
| I suggest niggas come To the Rescue
|
| I know how to part your medula, oblong gotta
|
| Test the rocket launcher, they’ll get conquered
|
| By my block sponsers, monster Tonka truck ya
|
| The whole train conductor
|
| A hole in your spine, rip your stomach mothafucka
|
| Brotha suffer, my Dutch puff as sinister as the Feds
|
| Infrared, signin on the Glock, splittin ya head
|
| Drippin wet from death threat messages I inject
|
| Intellect reflects worldwide over Internets
|
| Heart colder than Winter Fresh, chest smokin like incense
|
| Vets broken into the flesh, soakin in ya own mess
|
| Chrome bleds, some of the known best soldier vets
|
| Over cassette, you get smashed like crashed desert air shows
|
| Holdin ya breath, gaggin for a bit of oxygen
|
| Submission put a stop to men, reveal the foul document
|
| Lockin position, invision, adapt critical condition
|
| Pitiful you didn’t listen, now we’re spiritual blessin
|
| Viewer discretion advised, sabotage satellites
|
| Splatter guys, get ya food ate like I’m Big Mac and fries
|
| Trap nines in the thighs, symbolize real lives
|
| Instill a rocket fuck from the inside to the outside
|
| In ya mouth lied the barrel, subdue bone marrow
|
| Ya tone shadow, blown from high-explosive poem battles
|
| Dome smack, you live, projectiles effectin you
|
| Incredible new wave heart, blade sharp verses sexin you
|
| Claim professional, but I never met you
|
| Son I never forget you
|
| I slaughter foes when my particles wet you
|
| To the Rescue
|
| Professional vets, now comin through vexed
|
| I’m testin you vets, what you claimin that you best?
|
| The S on your chest, better stand for Super-Stress
|
| The Golden Arms pressed, next, here to set you
|
| REC! |
| I suggest niggas come To the Rescue
|
| Slash hope, raw burnin, freezin thoughts are cold
|
| Ballistic missle lift off, now one behold
|
| My throat harden for Harlem, harness the volume
|
| With grief fallin on me in a breeze, the seas partin
|
| It’s two men awesome, uncanny
|
| The handy man crook, the rap gank where every damn nook and cranny
|
| Plus four more opponents couldn’t throw me, couldn’t slam me
|
| I told you before, this is war, it’s radical claw
|
| Menate the law, practice my ambition
|
| Understand determination, plus my burnin condition
|
| Rebuild 'em, sing a song strong for disaster
|
| Scorch 'em on a letter, clever, bled 'em much faster
|
| Exotic lens, bionic Timb’s, hardco' organic
|
| The floor panic when revolvin, Shaolin dodgin
|
| Potion of my juice, it’s «Houston we have a problem»
|
| Its Basic Instinct, motor mouth, hold is sacred
|
| The Rushmore Rock Face, one four shot with the greatness
|
| Raw shoulders, sword colder, no remorse
|
| The crash course, the portions of my Porsche
|
| Divorse it, the Holocaust exhaust, driven with force
|
| Mighty ship back on course, I almost lost it
|
| Toss the smokin corpse, seldom sing
|
| Shells amongst men, rebellion, teens formin and swarmin
|
| Vikin style, strikin without warnin a nation
|
| Standin ovation, rap devastation
|
| New animation, the scandal
|
| Bandle the best part, damsel in distress, I’ll bless you
|
| God damn you! |
| To the rescue
|
| Professional vets, now comin through vexed
|
| I’m testin you vets, what you claimin that you best?
|
| The S on your chest, better stand for Super-Stress
|
| The Golden Arms pressed, next, here to set you
|
| REC! |
| I suggest niggas come To the Rescue |