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Whoever is on the front line is gettin' struck first |
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We mercinaries, fuck turf |
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Every verse is varied, I bust first |
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Mayday, Natural Elements controllin' the ship |
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Rollin' a spliff that'll probably put my soul in a twist |
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But I remain bonin' a bitch |
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Got her buck-naked posin' for flicks |
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Actin' like she was never known for the shit |
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But I look over the shoulder and see the enemy lookin' |
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Physically strong but mentally shooken |
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And for penetentiary bookin's this shit happens |
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Get orders from my nigga Charlemagne the ship Captain |
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You sound like a bitch yappin' |
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This shit is all Natural to us |
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Like blowin' endo out the window in the back of the bus |
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I move back and I bust |
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Rapid fire |
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You actin' flyer |
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Now your family's in black attire |
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With mad desire |
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When we caught you in the line of duty |
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You had it in your mind to shoot me |
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But every soldier of my kind sollutes me |
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Now I'm reclinin' with a Lucy |
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All of my niggas |
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Smoke it down to the filter |
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Holdin' a frown with a picture |
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You smell the smoke when I walk past |
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You saw blasts |
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You should've known about the drama in my warpath. |
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[Chorus] |
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Mayday Mayday, raise the white flags, time for the payday, |
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Payday, and it's like that, out shit is World Wide, North, South, East, |
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And West, put on your shield, lets see who's the best. Repeat 1x |
|
[Verse 2: Mr. Voo-Doo] |
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You feel the burnin' emission |
|
You squirm in submission |
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No terms and conditions |
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Ya'll confirm my suspicions |
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That ya'll are bitches that resemble Men |
|
Like female Tennis players at Wimbledon |
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Why you tremblin'? |
|
Shook like the ricter |
|
My voice raise waves |
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And make ya'll change ways like crooks turnin Muslim |
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Blast shots burnin' your Bosom |
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Like bitch cramps |
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You got lucky your people told you switch camps |
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Or get damp with plenty led |
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I'm like a beast with many heads |
|
Sort of like the Predators dreads |
|
I got more arms than Dr. Octavious |
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Rock your whole block radius |
|
I be the bomb |
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And I bleed nitrogliceren if you slice my palm |
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The Don been gone for how long from the rap biz? |
|
Wet more domes than John the baptist |
|
When the gat spits |
|
It ain't over 'till the last man's limbs |
|
Are twisted like he was doin Yoga |
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In fact my Pistol's longer than the Jokers |
|
I ignite Mag's |
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Leave your toe wearin' a white tag |
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So, ya'll niggas better raise the white flag. |
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[Chorus x2] |
|
[Verse 3: L-Swift] |
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I swear theres a war in the air in the New York streets |
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You talk beef? |
|
You had a swollen Melon, now you humble |
|
With loaded weapons, nowhere to run to |
|
We mega high, jet in the sky, droppin' bombs, |
|
Prepare to crumble as we rock on, |
|
Beware of the jungle with Anaconda's |
|
Don't puff too much 'cause the enemy smells the Marijuana |
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We blastin' every object in Combat with honor |
|
So yo, remember the agenda with the plan of action |
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No retreat, no surrender, keep the cannons blastin' |
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We blastin' heat 'till each member turns into has-beens |
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Soldiers bangin', who's click'll get done? |
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My crew can taste victory at the tip of the tongue |
|
Always prepared physically, take the clip for the gun |
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And put it in, 'cause when it's on how many niggas'll run? |
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You said we couldn't win, bullets in ya flesh, cave in your chest |
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You pullin' for breath, I'm claimin' your death |
|
You shouldn't've stepped, war paint on my chest |
|
Fatigue green and black |
|
And the heat reacts |
|
To make you bleed like hemophiliacs |
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See me strapped, heavily armed, repetitively |
|
Releasin' caps 'till the enemy's gone, definitely |
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My people pack metal for me, let a legend be born |
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I declare war, (What mothafucka!) and it's on. |
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[Chorus x2] |
