Song | The Shoot Out |
Artist | Killarmy |
Album | Dirty Weaponry |
作曲 : Bougard, Delvalle, Grant ... | |
{movie sample, unknown man} | |
For some warriors, the answer is crystalised in an instant, their | |
Instincts point them only one way. the truth becomes undeniable, and | |
Apocylptic. | |
[dom pachino, p.r. terrorist] | |
I got a hunger for the mic my appetite strike late at night | |
Food for thought, hold down a fort | |
Up in the port of riches last seen giving stitches, | |
Grab the can by ? crucifix, his team actin superstitious, | |
One eyein, one fakin, reachin for his iron | |
And one tryin to get close, i got the toast | |
And i'm firin, blood gushin, commotion | |
Still zonin off the war potion | |
[beretta 9] | |
Yo wha, yo | |
We be the masters of circuference, | |
My thought cant behold body, mind control substance | |
For the key to this shit, kid | |
Examin the imposter, group of a uh-life's | |
My team be deep like a roster, you lobster | |
You break the edges of all the ? | |
Cut the tongues off all the snakes | |
Just one hiss may cost ya, the price of ya life | |
I should always think twice, remember always think twice | |
Because mistake may be comin away kid | |
So wake the fuck up, yo wake the fuck up, yo | |
[islord] | |
Aiyoo, straight up and down | |
Dont even bring that type of shit around me | |
You live get ya whole neck slapped off ya shoulders | |
Quick fast, faster than the eye blink, so why think | |
You could live amongst the, livest mc's | |
And d-o-d's that i run with, | |
And collaborate my thoughts with | |
To elevate to higher standard as i landed, | |
But never stranded as the god p.r. terrorist apprehended | |
Analog suspects on the set | |
[dom pachino] | |
Dirty doctrine, killer concoction, rhyme rottin, | |
Stay plottin, yesterday wake, grenade shoppin | |
Caught a nice one, grave the vest-a | |
To track a ? that may get bloody, ugly | |
Dippin in mud, my soldiers gonna love me | |
Grab a mic, look into the sunshine way above me | |
Hold my forehead, today had my daily bread | |
Shared it with you, make sure my fans are always fed | |
[killa sin] | |
Yo i'm pullin wrestiln moves, | |
My competition headlocked into submission, | |
While shots are lickin | |
Pickin through crops of intuition, | |
Yo my brain starts to change shorts are strange (what) | |
Names brought in vain, court physical force of unexplained | |
For the battle of my life in the night light | |
This nigga grab a mic tight | |
Strike with a flash of dynamite, right | |
So figure this, killa get vigorous | |
A lyricist supremicist attackin the track like ? of villages | |
Run, we still pillagin dunn |
zuò qǔ : Bougard, Delvalle, Grant ... | |
movie sample, unknown man | |
For some warriors, the answer is crystalised in an instant, their | |
Instincts point them only one way. the truth becomes undeniable, and | |
Apocylptic. | |
dom pachino, p. r. terrorist | |
I got a hunger for the mic my appetite strike late at night | |
Food for thought, hold down a fort | |
Up in the port of riches last seen giving stitches, | |
Grab the can by ? crucifix, his team actin superstitious, | |
One eyein, one fakin, reachin for his iron | |
And one tryin to get close, i got the toast | |
And i' m firin, blood gushin, commotion | |
Still zonin off the war potion | |
beretta 9 | |
Yo wha, yo | |
We be the masters of circuference, | |
My thought cant behold body, mind control substance | |
For the key to this shit, kid | |
Examin the imposter, group of a uhlife' s | |
My team be deep like a roster, you lobster | |
You break the edges of all the ? | |
Cut the tongues off all the snakes | |
Just one hiss may cost ya, the price of ya life | |
I should always think twice, remember always think twice | |
Because mistake may be comin away kid | |
So wake the fuck up, yo wake the fuck up, yo | |
islord | |
Aiyoo, straight up and down | |
Dont even bring that type of shit around me | |
You live get ya whole neck slapped off ya shoulders | |
Quick fast, faster than the eye blink, so why think | |
You could live amongst the, livest mc' s | |
And dod' s that i run with, | |
And collaborate my thoughts with | |
To elevate to higher standard as i landed, | |
But never stranded as the god p. r. terrorist apprehended | |
Analog suspects on the set | |
dom pachino | |
Dirty doctrine, killer concoction, rhyme rottin, | |
Stay plottin, yesterday wake, grenade shoppin | |
Caught a nice one, grave the vesta | |
To track a ? that may get bloody, ugly | |
Dippin in mud, my soldiers gonna love me | |
Grab a mic, look into the sunshine way above me | |
Hold my forehead, today had my daily bread | |
Shared it with you, make sure my fans are always fed | |
killa sin | |
Yo i' m pullin wrestiln moves, | |
My competition headlocked into submission, | |
While shots are lickin | |
Pickin through crops of intuition, | |
Yo my brain starts to change shorts are strange what | |
Names brought in vain, court physical force of unexplained | |
For the battle of my life in the night light | |
This nigga grab a mic tight | |
Strike with a flash of dynamite, right | |
So figure this, killa get vigorous | |
A lyricist supremicist attackin the track like ? of villages | |
Run, we still pillagin dunn |