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(feat. U-God) |
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*helicopter sounds* |
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(Hook: 9th Prince + (U-God)) |
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Shoot down planes, war games, in the black Range |
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with the snipe for aim cuz yo (it's militant) |
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Phillipine bitches in the black tint, commando |
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Showdown at the main event (it's militant) |
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We carry hand grenades, ooh-ahhs, and AK's |
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They troops, muddy boots, bulletproof Lex coupes (it's militant) |
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(B9) Two G, Eiloheine, submachine, |
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(B9) AT magazines, courage under fire (we killin shit) |
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(9th Prince) |
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Aiyyo fatigue, G.I.Joe's in armored tanks |
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American heroes covered with paint, black and gold like the Saints |
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Commandoes got rank, no blanks |
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Spill (?) Valentine, Afghan tinges at my team gun shank |
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I rack the 12 gauge, Shogun voices like exotic warfare |
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You die when you feel the bass, you dressed to kill |
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Let it play Six the Hard Way - we let off like 47 AK's |
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Okay, okay? |
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(Beretta 9) |
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Yo, walls all red don, Killa-Arm recon |
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Our fleet bomb, all year long, surrender arms |
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Black Napoleon, petroleum, blitzkreig Mongolian |
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Missle whistle on the approach, sendin militiamen |
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Foxhole, fire in the hole, lick a shot slow |
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Y'all know, y'all analog niggaz best take a stroll |
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Or wind up in critical - passed out, mobile army |
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Surgical hospital, last bout niggaz, last bout niggaz |
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Beretta on the trigger y'all - how could you figure?! |
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Marksman status |
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(Chorus) |
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(Dom Pachino) |
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Evacuate the war, finger pop glocks, fuck AK's |
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Make love to M-16's, when I step on the scene |
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With a fat mack and a fat stack, magazine |
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Camoflauge kinda swamp green |
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Cream for my face, cadets get laced from the neck up |
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Taste the blood from a leaf cut, you been struck |
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You weak fuck, Killarmy's the best |
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Affiliated with the best, so there's no contest |
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And when we launch these missles they be no one left |
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Terrorists, blow smoke niggaz choke, hold ya breath |
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and went, niggaz lay rounds on the block where's the ref? |
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(Shogun Assassin) |
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Great scott, check my diabolical plots |
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I got a fetish for the fiendish, fuck the drama shit this be that hit |
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This murder in the first degree, and death be your penalty |
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When you try to mimic the army |
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you become a casualty of World War Three |
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We come through back to back, every man strapped, ready to handle that |
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Pre-cocked, ready to trigger that |
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Sauna raps, live on stage, at the Basker's, swordsman strike back |
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Lash out on attack, slash through ya back |
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Got a deal, a murder contract, to assassinate ya calmly on this track |
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(Chorus) - 2X |