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Stupid motherfuckers. Run, duck, and hide, die motherfucker die. |
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(Let em know, Celph) It's time to bust some heads in. (Let's go.) Oh yeah. |
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It is the Army. Blaaaat! |
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[Chorus] [Celph Titled] |
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Hard to the motherfucking core we are |
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The federated army of the Pharaoh murderer squad |
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Run run |
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We gonna tear the head piece up |
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Uh huh, you don't want beef because |
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Vinnie I had enough of them, yo bust 'em in |
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Vinnie I had enough of them, yo bust 'em in |
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Bust bust 'em in |
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Bust bust 'em in |
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Bust bust 'em in |
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Bust bust 'em in |
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[Verse One] [Reef The Lost Cauze] |
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A.O.T.P. |
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Fresh Nikes and ice links |
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You won't feel till after the punch like a spiked drink |
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Sipping Goose till my eyes pink |
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Ninety-five live rings |
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Real niggas survive things and die kings |
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I can hear dead homie sayin' "Yo you owe it to me." |
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So it's no holds barred like the old Hulk Hogan movie |
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You got a heart homeboy? Well yo show it to me |
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The flow's majestic, I spit a roll of golden rubies |
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I'm old school like roll a doobie |
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Daddy-O my hoes is groovy, pay my rent with dough from groupies |
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A pimp and a killer, gorilla your project |
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Nine milli really only defense of my logic |
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The shotgun just sits in the closet |
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Waiting for you fuckers to come dip in my shit |
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Nonsense |
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The weak could never stop the thorough |
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Bitch niggas suspect, I call them boys Gossip Girls |
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[Chorus] [Celph Titled] |
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Hard to the motherfucking core we are |
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The federated army of the Pharaoh murderer squad |
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Run run |
|
We gonna tear the head piece up |
|
Uh huh, you don't want beef because |
|
Vinnie I had enough of them, yo bust 'em in |
|
Vinnie I had enough of them, yo bust 'em in |
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Bust bust 'em in |
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Bust bust 'em in |
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Bust bust 'em in |
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Bust bust 'em in |
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[Verse Two] [Apathy] |
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I treat fools like bitches cause I always got a few biscuits |
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And bus(t) 'em in like kids from different school districts |
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Y'all dip shits will get your spinal discs flipped |
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Rhymes will make the vinyl disc skip, find your wrists slit |
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Nickel-plated nine shine like diamonds on Slick Rick |
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I'm wicked as a Wiccan bitch when the candle wick's lit |
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Want to sample this shit? You need to read Sanskrit |
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And travel to the top of Mount Sinai to transmit |
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Running through the Red Seas like an escaped slave |
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Then holding up the walls of water with my sound waves |
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Like what I was doing during Public Execution |
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Half-human, half-mutant, Ap must be the Rasputin |
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Gats shooting, shots ricocheting off of my steel body |
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And three quarter length Fat Goose to conceal shotties |
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If God walks the surface of the sun it won't melt feet |
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Cause when's the last time you heard Ap rip a Celph beat? |
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[Chorus] [Celph Titled] |
|
Hard to the motherfucking core we are |
|
The federated army of the Pharaoh murderer squad |
|
Run run |
|
We gonna tear the head piece up |
|
Uh huh, you don't want beef because |
|
Vinnie I had enough of them, yo bust 'em in |
|
Vinnie I had enough of them, yo bust 'em in |
|
Bust bust 'em in |
|
Bust bust 'em in |
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Bust bust 'em in |
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Bust bust 'em in |
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[Verse Three] [Celph Titled] |
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I'm a five-star general, the motherfucking main man |
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Flip a bird, hold a swammy with the same hand |
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And do a rain dance when blood splatters and sprays |
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Cement mixing your IV, turn your Anatomy Grey |
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Nobody ratted at A- |
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O.T.P. not Tretch with O.P.P. |
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I'm obsessed with O.C.D. |
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A temperamental mental patient |
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With cyberkenetic on-board computer integration |
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One of rap's most innovative voices and flows |
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In front of missile-command buttons |
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I look around, all my choices just blow |
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So now you should know |
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I'm the don of braggadocio flamethrower |
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I'm Cobra Kai and I'm keeping that dojo, name goers |
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Come down and sign up, I'm training soldiers to rhyme rough |
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And get they punchlines up |
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Cause you ain't fucking with the gold beard Rubix Cuban nowhere |
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No rapper is nowhere near what I just wrote here |
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Oh yeah |
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[Outro] [Vinnie Paz] |
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Yeah. A.O.T.P. Pharaoh clique. Philly to Beantown |
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To Connecticut. To fuckin' Tampa. We worldwide baby |
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Official pistol gang. Braaaat! |