| Song | Battle Hymn |
| Artist | Vinnie Paz |
| Album | God of the Serengeti |
| I travel underground, like the Goonies, with a bag full of uzis | |
| Emerging in a corner store where Arabs sell loosies | |
| My banger’s on the waist, I never wave it around | |
| But I always chamber a round when there’s strangers around | |
| Set my phaser to kill, my force field is on max | |
| Never relax, study the facts, and stockpile gats | |
| Cause the sky’s about to bleed blood out from the clouds | |
| This gas mask’s in my backpack when walking through crowds | |
| The post-apocalyptic, optic fitted, with bionic circuitry | |
| Surgically planted perfectly, no way to word it verbally | |
| But extrasensory perception got me detecting | |
| Any cop or detective, intercept them, and stop them with weapons | |
| [Verse 2: Crypt the Warchild] | |
| Don’t hit me with the drama, don’t approach me ’bout no B.I | |
| Cause I’m a Pharaoh king, and y’all ain’t worthy of a reply | |
| Bodies I’ve caught decomposing on the seaside | |
| Catch me river dancing through the bloody waters, knee-high | |
| Mind state is cut throat, can’t walk around deprived | |
| My team shut it down, and they access will be denied | |
| Crown royal status Puerto-Ricans, that’s how we ride | |
| Nocturnal foes mesmerized by the streetlights | |
| One shot at glory, game will never give you three tries | |
| For the haters I’ve murked, they would love to see me die | |
| Acid tripping vision, everything look hi-defy | |
| Drugs, money, liquor, only things that get me by | |
| [Verse 3: Jus Allah] | |
| I got a lot of hate, I got to learn to love, stop the date | |
| But some days I would rather murder the populate | |
| Either way, I gotta open up the cosmic gates | |
| Who knows what the future holds, gotta watch and wait | |
| I can’t function clear, keep a ton of guns and beer | |
| I never sweat it, I get arrested like once a year | |
| My gun big as two guns, you should cover your ears | |
| Believe half of what you see and nothing you hear | |
| Nobody listens, I got a lot of ground to cover | |
| Bullets go in one ear and out the other | |
| Tucked the weapon in, kicked his face | |
| In the blood pool like give him a taste of his own medicine | |
| [Verse 4: Esoteric] | |
| Impeach the president, I’m pulling out my ray-gun | |
| Chuck D’s greatest line and y'all ain’t even thank him | |
| Y'all ain’t on my radar, horrible like Hagar | |
| Mos Eisleys flow, beats banging on the space bar | |
| Haters get mad, start banging on the spacebar | |
| Flip over the desk, ought to take it up with HR | |
| Your bitch give Bad Brains, like she work for H.R | |
| I be where the rays are, you wonder where the weights are | |
| I’m a cannibal, you cats wonder where the plates are | |
| I know that I’m immortal why you wonder where the gates are | |
| I Cold Crush your Brother like Grandmaster Caz | |
| Paz work with the .45 like Lakim Shabazz | |
| [Verse 5: Blacastan] | |
| I’m from the East Coast nigga, but I’m still loped out | |
| I grew up inside the crack-house, my moms was smoked out | |
| You know the kid with the bummy kicks, holes in his jeans | |
| Same shirt, chilling on some bummy shit | |
| Yeah, that was me though, attracted to the metal like Magneto | |
| Sneakers started talking like ay bandito | |
| Got my own never borrowed or begged for shit | |
| Now it's on cause I'm rolling with the Pharaohs legit | |
| Tired of rappers always rhyming that bullshit | |
| Catch at you at your CD signing, with a full clip | |
| Now, how you feel about the Pharaohs and the Demigodz? | |
| That’s what I thought nigga, because we large and in charge | |
| [Verse 6: Celph Titled] | |
| Keep shooters on stash, move and they blast | |
| Refugees that came on an intertube with a gat | |
| Rubix Cuban ?, but you will respect the handle | |
| Spin checks on Windex so I shine the chrome enamel | |
| I throw hands with the devil so ain’t much to fear after | |
| Bitches cry over me, I’m a top tier rapper | |
| American Idol with a wet wipe for you desperate housewives | |
| Firecracker go off from my brick, the whole house white | |
| And I will outright say that you sorrow | |
| I write your favorite writer that you base your style off of | |
| I’ll let the Tec blast in ya, if the check cash finish | |
| Shells give you a turtle-face, make ya back splinter | |
| [Verse 7: Planetary] | |
| Sittin with the semi automatics, | |
| Sippin henny In the attic, | |
| Spittin heavy with the god of the Serengeti blast it, | |
| Fast it, | |
| Till I downloaded de attatchment, | |
| The huger came back and I’m eatin like a savage, | |
| Walkin through the laberith, | |
| Imagining the snazerith, | |
| Throwing more stones at the throne lone catalyst, | |
| Puff puff, acid, | |
| that ain’t never been me I only had the urge to annihilate the MC, | |
| You should ride the 10 speed to cop the top 10 sneaks, | |
| Never thought I’d be in Buddhas best Countin 10gs |
| I travel underground, like the Goonies, with a bag full of uzis | |
| Emerging in a corner store where Arabs sell loosies | |
| My banger' s on the waist, I never wave it around | |
| But I always chamber a round when there' s strangers around | |
| Set my phaser to kill, my force field is on max | |
| Never relax, study the facts, and stockpile gats | |
| Cause the sky' s about to bleed blood out from the clouds | |
| This gas mask' s in my backpack when walking through crowds | |
| The postapocalyptic, optic fitted, with bionic circuitry | |
| Surgically planted perfectly, no way to word it verbally | |
| But extrasensory perception got me detecting | |
| Any cop or detective, intercept them, and stop them with weapons | |
| Verse 2: Crypt the Warchild | |
| Don' t hit me with the drama, don' t approach me ' bout no B. I | |
| Cause I' m a Pharaoh king, and y' all ain' t worthy of a reply | |
| Bodies I' ve caught decomposing on the seaside | |
| Catch me river dancing through the bloody waters, kneehigh | |
| Mind state is cut throat, can' t walk around deprived | |
| My team shut it down, and they access will be denied | |
| Crown royal status PuertoRicans, that' s how we ride | |
| Nocturnal foes mesmerized by the streetlights | |
| One shot at glory, game will never give you three tries | |
| For the haters I' ve murked, they would love to see me die | |
| Acid tripping vision, everything look hidefy | |
| Drugs, money, liquor, only things that get me by | |
| Verse 3: Jus Allah | |
| I got a lot of hate, I got to learn to love, stop the date | |
| But some days I would rather murder the populate | |
| Either way, I gotta open up the cosmic gates | |
| Who knows what the future holds, gotta watch and wait | |
| I can' t function clear, keep a ton of guns and beer | |
| I never sweat it, I get arrested like once a year | |
| My gun big as two guns, you should cover your ears | |
| Believe half of what you see and nothing you hear | |
| Nobody listens, I got a lot of ground to cover | |
| Bullets go in one ear and out the other | |
| Tucked the weapon in, kicked his face | |
| In the blood pool like give him a taste of his own medicine | |
| Verse 4: Esoteric | |
| Impeach the president, I' m pulling out my raygun | |
| Chuck D' s greatest line and y' all ain' t even thank him | |
| Y' all ain' t on my radar, horrible like Hagar | |
| Mos Eisleys flow, beats banging on the space bar | |
| Haters get mad, start banging on the spacebar | |
| Flip over the desk, ought to take it up with HR | |
| Your bitch give Bad Brains, like she work for H. R | |
| I be where the rays are, you wonder where the weights are | |
| I' m a cannibal, you cats wonder where the plates are | |
| I know that I' m immortal why you wonder where the gates are | |
| I Cold Crush your Brother like Grandmaster Caz | |
| Paz work with the . 45 like Lakim Shabazz | |
| Verse 5: Blacastan | |
| I' m from the East Coast nigga, but I' m still loped out | |
| I grew up inside the crackhouse, my moms was smoked out | |
| You know the kid with the bummy kicks, holes in his jeans | |
| Same shirt, chilling on some bummy shit | |
| Yeah, that was me though, attracted to the metal like Magneto | |
| Sneakers started talking like ay bandito | |
| Got my own never borrowed or begged for shit | |
| Now it' s on cause I' m rolling with the Pharaohs legit | |
| Tired of rappers always rhyming that bullshit | |
| Catch at you at your CD signing, with a full clip | |
| Now, how you feel about the Pharaohs and the Demigodz? | |
| That' s what I thought nigga, because we large and in charge | |
| Verse 6: Celph Titled | |
| Keep shooters on stash, move and they blast | |
| Refugees that came on an intertube with a gat | |
| Rubix Cuban ?, but you will respect the handle | |
| Spin checks on Windex so I shine the chrome enamel | |
| I throw hands with the devil so ain' t much to fear after | |
| Bitches cry over me, I' m a top tier rapper | |
| American Idol with a wet wipe for you desperate housewives | |
| Firecracker go off from my brick, the whole house white | |
| And I will outright say that you sorrow | |
| I write your favorite writer that you base your style off of | |
| I' ll let the Tec blast in ya, if the check cash finish | |
| Shells give you a turtleface, make ya back splinter | |
| Verse 7: Planetary | |
| Sittin with the semi automatics, | |
| Sippin henny In the attic, | |
| Spittin heavy with the god of the Serengeti blast it, | |
| Fast it, | |
| Till I downloaded de attatchment, | |
| The huger came back and I' m eatin like a savage, | |
| Walkin through the laberith, | |
| Imagining the snazerith, | |
| Throwing more stones at the throne lone catalyst, | |
| Puff puff, acid, | |
| that ain' t never been me I only had the urge to annihilate the MC, | |
| You should ride the 10 speed to cop the top 10 sneaks, | |
| Never thought I' d be in Buddhas best Countin 10gs |