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Yeah...hahaha.... |
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Vinnie P! |
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Celph Titled, Apathy... |
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Yeah, walk with me! |
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[Verse 1 - Vinnie Paz] |
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It's the return of the most fucking grimy on earth |
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It's a funeral in every single line of my verse |
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Your mind'll just burst, with every line of Solomon's curse |
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Fuck a hummer, Vinnie Pazienza driving a hearse |
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It climb to reverse, like the lyrics on a dirty record |
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I carry thirty weapons, burn you with my .30 Desert |
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Should learn to accept it, it's a path of destruction |
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I earn my wage with a 30 H you pass, we'll be buckin' |
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It's no fucking discussion, I'm as hard as granite |
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I hope my vocal will choke you and then orbit the planet |
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And then cross the Atlantic, Pharaohs is causing a panic |
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Arms will be brawling with Planet, saw us and called the mechanics |
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My baby girl is a .40 cal, I used to tell my older brother "little shorty, wow" |
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But that was then daddy this is now |
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You can suck my dick you little fucking bitch, your block about to bow |
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[Chorus - Celph Titled] |
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You better make way, the motherfucking wolves are back |
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We back at it like a bad habit, no we ain't having it |
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Tell 'em, you heard we came down |
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Smack 'em, if they make a sound |
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No, we ain't backing down |
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No, we ain't repping them |
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Get 'em? We got 'em (Pick 'em up, pick 'em up!) |
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Shoot 'em? We shot 'em (Understand what I'm saying?) |
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Get 'em? We got 'em (Pick 'em up, pick 'em up!) |
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Shoot 'em? We shot 'em (Understand what I'm saying?) |
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[Verse 2 - Apathy] |
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Fuck around with the Army and get a split wig |
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Like Santa Claus, bringing gifts to a Crips' crib |
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Cuz you're the type that a phony when you try to fight |
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Hide behind a bouncer and your homies when wild'n right |
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Nowadays, faggot nerd poets be trying to write |
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On the mic, looking like a Napoleon Dynamite |
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The foamiest fall, like foliage when they brawl |
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Tongue spit black magic, unholiest of all |
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Like the planets revolve around suns and space |
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I got plans that involve large guns and waste |
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I got flows that evolve beyond the human race |
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Try to spit em in your lips or off your tongue and your face |
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I'm toxic waste, I'm top-secret box lock the safe |
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I'm blocks with shot cops only dropped in lakes |
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I'm crack-rock and base with a cosmic taste |
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To put the fiends into space where the rockets race |
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[Chorus] |
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[Verse 3 - Celph Titled] |
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Yo, is there heaven for a gangster? |
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No, but there's hell for a faggot |
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Put on my work outfit, with a belt for my rachet |
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You gonna melt when the gats spit, shoot your mother at your funeral |
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She fell in the casket, how convenient is that shit? |
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Shoot a flare at my troops, and we letting the gats flame 'em |
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Put stairs in the booth, and we stepping our rap game up |
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I'm a boss but I take orders, from gun exporters |
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Plus I got a keen sense for sniffing out tape recorders |
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You a snitch? We'll rape your daughter |
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And bring her down to the basement to tape record her |
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Get your best entertainment lawyer, cuz we about to extort ya |
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Fake thug, Tom Sawyer, yeah I saw ya, we'll saw ya |
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With the Black and Decker, slice savagely |
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I don't gotta use God's name in vain to get my soldiers to blast for me |
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And I won't say I'm the best since Rakim and Pac and them |
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Better yet, I'm the best since Mozart & Bach and them |
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[Chorus] |
