*alarm blaring*
[Intro: Poetic]
Sharp Shooter regime, Godz Work regime
Baby J all the way, smooth as alize
Yo, yo, General Grym, yo
Lockin it down like the federal pen'
Yo, we gon' start wit the hook
[Chorus: Poetic]
I'm 'bout to wreak havoc on the beast this year
Labels ain't tryin to promote this here
Commercial radio shows, they just don't care
The savior of the rap world now appears
To my peeps on the pavement, time is near
To my peers on my wavelength, have no fear
10 years of politicin make me aware
My soul is more precious than rap careers
[Poetic]
I'm holdin lives, armies of God immobilized
Reclaimin scrolls, stolen by spies, holdin fives
My mother's swollen eyes prepare me for warfare
Bustin of clear in your ear, with more flair, than the 4th of July
My Sharp Shooter regime got the prototype to blow a mic
You couldn't see me in infrared photo light, I'm so precise
You know the Poet's nice, carryin tubes made of gold and ice
Marchin through your outpost, causin outbursts
Caught you in your house, cold made your mouth hurt
Just sayin my name is a federal offence
Now you fuckin with the hip-hop General, who's attacks in indefendable
Your weak spine is bendable, your weak my mind is pretend-a-bone
It wants to act sensible but lacks intelligence to pull it off
You only understand the bullet talk
Instead of talkin that bull, you shoul've walked out of my territory
My clever story severs cornies, by measures put together lyrically
You like a terror orgy, you rap niggas ---- bore me
Made me into this sword carryin, caught buryin
Lord varyin, you know the Gods twist it like Bavarian pretzels
Plus, I'm never respectful, to those who are neglectful
Of their duty to cilvilze, as they minimize the power of a live mic
See I maximize all cracks in their vibes, just to provide light
And only the strong survive, so I keep the rhyme tight
Chorus
[Poetic]
Modern scientists clone cows and sheeps, just grown from cells
Manipulate nature where guns fail, war tactics vary
Our adversary has various ways to bury us ex-slaves
Of America, every day could be your last day
You could be blasted the fast way, caps stray, then ricochet
And flash gray matter, while you prayin to the father
Kissin the coba, kids in the corner is turnin the streets into a suana
In the black home, while the black dome
Lacks the backbone to recapture the black phone
You got arians all up in your face
And y'all buggin off who got the fuckin hottest mixtape
In New York state, war schemes, your plots, endorse feds
And plot lace the block with crates full of Glocks
See, they got more fiends fiendin for morphines and more rocks
Than Plymouth, until it's too hot for the timid street chemist
Got more bass then DJ's got bass-bins, jakes'll pull a raidin
Stomp at the cop in combat, mortals are charged like Rayden
You caught off guard, now armed guards excort you to court
Offices where officers offer certain deals which appeal
To the snake mind, yo, it ain't hard to find from clothes designs
To jewels, to mixtapes to the way that niggas rhyme
Yo, I'm fed up, me and the Gods, set up
So, every other fuckin team get wet up
Chorus
[Outro: Poetic]
Yo! Yo! I'm too hype to finish this shit! Yo!
