Tytuł: Round em up

• Wykonawca: King Just
• Wyświetleń: 439

  
   [Intro]
  Yo man, yo, I don't know man
  Yo this rock thing got me buggin yo
  Word, I be buggin out and shit
  Yo, yo
  
  [King Just]
  Baby are you ready? On the zone high
  Oh why, must these bastards try
  To test, my buddha cess, mine I remind
  The Fist knew the time, and I came wit the rhyme
  Fly, on top of the world
  I came to kick this shit for the boys and the girls
  Twirl, into the wind of Shaolin
  Begin where you want, and end where you in
  Come on, send, a message to you crew and your troops
  That my Soldiers stomp like Timberland boots
  Fruit, roll up, yo hold up, lucky
  Make your the 'cal is tight, packed in tuckly
  I might be, comin at a project near you
  Wit the Zoo and the Two, and the whole shaboo
  Shebang, it's the God doin his thing
  And it ain't no thang, but a chicken wing
  The King, sits on the throne wit a bone
  And I'm known, from makin a fuck wit microphone
  In the zone on my own, always singin alone
  And I'd be damn, if I take a fuckin ugly bitch home
  Roam through the ancient tomb of doom
  A metamorphosis, that becomes a cocoon
  
  [Chorus]
  Round 'em up, move 'em up, lay 'em down (flat)
  Shootin M.C.'s wit my lyrical (gat)
  Never had to front cuz the Mob got my (back)
  Like that (like that) like that, like that
  
  [King Just]
  Yo, I'm back, to set shit straight
  Aiyo, waitin from the King
  You never make it past the castle gates
  Norman Bates is my fate, but I gotta escape
  I fuckin hate the plate, but I know I gotta date
  Escape to the next cut, and blow up, grow up
  Ah, rhymes that'll fuckin rot
  To your ear, my style is sharp just like a spear
  I see fear, whenever the God presence is near
  Clear, the way, cuz I slay
  Everyday in May, and niggas don't come around my way
  You better head for the door
  Cuz I get raw, plus I'm Shaolin stompin through ya floor
  I want more, pounds and sounds, I'm gettin down
  Lick 'em down, I represent place, home and sound
  Peep my style, I'm back wit the high pro-lo
  Another flow, another sound boy over the rainbow
  Aiyo, can I get a fat one? I'm back son
  Dead men tell no tales, will be the outcome
  The wild hon', hit ya so hard
  To make a buck reign rock it to Meth
  And blow the fuck up
  
  [Chorus]
  
  [King Just]
  It's the return of the bad h-h-holes
  No one knows where I get my strange flow
  You're slow, it's the Mystics of the God
  The Sex, Money, the Cess, and the Blas'e Blah
  No sellout, no doubt, cuz I'mma represent
  Cuz Wayne's World, I'm excellent
  Bah humbug, he'll catch a slug from the slug (blaow!)
  Black Fist make the way while the Shaolin show love
  Oh lord, that means it's my turn to rock
  Hemp pump cock, as I'm smokin up the block
  Nonstop, I got skills to go on and on
  From dust to dawn, from night to morn'
  Word is bond, you're corn, will get eaten
  Just like a Terrier, I ain't scared of ya
  Yo what's on in the area
  
  [Chorus 2X]
  
  [Outro]
  Harvard tactics from the Black Fist