Tytuł: War rats

• Wykonawca: Cappadonna
• Wyświetleń: 264

  
   Less seen and less heard, It's the pillage
  live where we die for trade, orphans of the industry, rise up against
  pretense, DJ's of segregation come together plottin' on the Nation
  cats got the puff powder dance
  underground economics, take a chance at the crackpot
  speak at the ones on top
  at the gay bar your best rap star caught not keepin' it real
  whats the deal wit' ya'll wanna be MC's when Ghost hit you
  the struggle is official with this
  chill 'cause we don't mix wit' yall uncle Tomers
  we rock those real black leather bombers
  for real, Park Hill not Beverly Hills
  ya'll better be still
  my brains come out of my ball pen for my origin
  I put the work in, any predictament
  in fact it don't matter to me
  the rap Oprah Winfrey with less currency
  but rock beautifully, no security with me
  hard times and prophecy
  one idea, two children and three for virginity
  pure energy whenever you confront me
  I'ma take yours, star wars.
  
  [Chorus]
  Star Wars, storm troopers, evil rulers
  New manuevers, Black German Luger laser beam
  
  (repeat Chorus)
  
  [Verse 2]
  The tables turned now, enter Shaolin where it's cold now
  let the Teck blow now
  more Jungle nails, Parkhillbillies pour gas on Phillies
  blocks where the Babies pick locks
  and Women make love to other Women
  it's the pillage, your Mother's Sons
  no more cold war, it be the poor ones
  no radio play, from the hallway to the doorway
  they banned us, cease to understand us
  rap criminals segregated, player hated
  underrated, project recipients
  Cappadonna, bag with the marijuana
  I'm a late-comer, I spread love last Summer
  photographs with the Hummer
  a young dumber, bound to get dumber
  I speak the real CB, pillage monopoly
  talk a XYZ, ain't nothin' like WB
  O.T.F., a bag of Uno Sixty
  I love how the weed get me
  see me whole style tricky
  gats under the table, the tables turn now
  life is too short and too foul
  fake Brothers will get exiled
  Staten Island style, chicka-Pow!
  
  [Chorus] - 2X
  
  [Verse 3]
  I drop paragraphs of information
  my mind starts racin'
  I'm in the lot dancin' with the hard-headed
  I start to attack on every track when I react
  dancehall style, ain't nothin' nice
  I came to regulate, Cappachino the great
  comin' from all sorts of angles
  I close in, my team be the chosen
  authorized like a hat tucked in
  you get sucked in, catch a repurcussion and crushed in
  paralyzed, open your eyes, it's us again
  O.T.F. hit you like the blow of death
  pulled while you was 'sleep
  with or without the gold teeth
  crunch and lounge, Q guardin' the door
  it's like Comstock, we in the Belly similar to clock
  Boys to Men buildin', in the street
  Oatmeal and Cream of Wheat
  thugs smoke leek, it's like the penile in the ghetto
  Palmetto, chocolate trees, crying Babies
  rabies to the ringworm, take a turn and get burned
  tryin' to be this, realness
  Shaolin barracks is very high tempered
  sensed it in the water sorrounded by the fairy boats
  hallways with pissy cut throats
  we forever live, gotta protect the orphanage
  the beast men, learn to fight back with the poilcemen
  Star Wars...Star Wars.
  
  [Chorus] - 3x