Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Killing Fields , by - Vinnie Paz. Song from the album Greatest Features, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 22.06.2009
Record label: Babygrande
Song language: English
The Killing Fields |
| Yeah, the real is back cocksucker, this is 08 |
| A lot of people show love, people sho' hate |
| A lot of niggas fall back but I won’t wait |
| This doe will be made, I motivate to those states |
| We build destroy only just to keep building |
| We kill the noise only just to reach millions |
| Time to step my game up, change myself |
| I neva point the finger I blame myself |
| I make this music for me, refuse to sleep |
| He who works hard, he usually eat |
| We two but we deep, we grew some more beat |
| We Q to the D, we glued to the streets |
| Who’s who when he speak? |
| That dude is a key |
| He who barks loud, he usually sweet |
| Maneuver the beat, paralyze the bassline |
| Dismantled kick snare and I neva take time |
| Laid on the line even if it takes mine |
| Laid on your mind even if it takes nine |
| Shots to your melon, Cerebellum on the Stateline |
| Spit 20/20 Primetime like its Dateline |
| Everything is real in this field we walking |
| We talking, we start this, no comp nigga |
| We lock shit down |
| And this shit gon' burn |
| All day you in the way, Paz it’s your turn |
| This is ignorance at its finest |
| I’m most high like Dalai Lamas |
| I cock back the four/fifth put you in pajamas |
| I don’t think that I even needed my fist to stop it |
| My word bond it’s similar to a Prince’s promise |
| I shoot 3 at you three times like Clinton Thomas |
| Fuck around wit Pazi and get you hit wit llamas |
| I ain’t even really trying to go war wit you |
| I’m just gon' let you know that I’mma let the four hit you |
| Put you in the Tabernacle let the Lord hit you |
| Send you to the blue Mosque let Allah get you |
| Break your jaw wipe the mothafucking floor wit you |
| Break your jaw wipe the mothafucking floor wit you |
| Brrrrrrrrrrrrrtttt… |
| Brrrrrrrrrrrrrtttt… |
| Brrrtt… |
| (Planetary talking) |
| That’s why they hate you nigga |
| Stop that, let’s do it |
| (Crypt) |
| Everything is real in this field we walking |
| We talking, we start this, no comp nigga |
| We lock shit down |
| And this shit gon' burn |
| (All day you in the way, Plan it’s your turn) |
| I drink wine out the holy Tabernacle, its shackles |
| Throwing that ludicrous shookeries, that Judas statue |
| Planetary get at you wit Warchild at the chapel |
| It’s rotten like Adam’s apple that infested the battle |
| I ejected poisonous outta my brain to tame |
| Evil thoughts that arose as we toast to fame |
| As we say a prayer for the fallen labels |
| As we eat the Last Supper off Angie’s table |
| Breaking bread wit the Army |
| Sound of the streets called me |
| Satan’s messenger tried to harm me |
| But he ain’t stronger then me, NOPE! |
| Mag I’m just like Moses |
| I call the rules of the game as I walk in the ocean |
| This is what we like to call poetry in motion |
| Catch us overseas wit the crowd wide open |
| It’s the New Testament Heaven sent so bow down |
| Kiss the ring of the Lord, man our time is now |
| Everything is real in this field we walking |
| We talking, we start this, no comp nigga |
| We lock shit down |
| And this shit gon' burn |
| All day you in the way, Mag it’s your time |
| The jig will cause a drip in your throat like you blew Hov |
| You only see the burners when they use like a new stove |
| I’m too old for new roads, too cold to warm up to new hoes |
| Do shows for two O’s and two buck |
| The two bucks will do something, too much |
| Move up, move out, you bruise up, shootout or shoot up |
| At odds wit my new luck, I’m nos when I’m souped up |
| In arms wit a toothbrush, if God couldn’t rule us |
| Then God doing too much, I’m one in a million |
| Meaning five thousand others is wanted for killing |
| Outta five billion I’m the one or the runner up |
| Twelve bars you almost on my dick like my gun is stuck |