[Verse: Styles P]
Everybody turned up, me I'm just burned up
Sour lit, piff lit, flying through the district
My swag's in the weed bag
Live up in the hotel, hangout where the G's at
Where the B's and the C's at?
You fall back, or you ease back
But a real homie'll rise up
Think of the 4-4 long, you got me sized up
I'm too old for the dumb shh-
Cold for the numb shh-
Hand on the gun grip
The top down with the blunt lit
Flying, thinking of hundreds
I'm in the juice game and the book game
But I'm still rapping, got my mass and my cook game
It's midnight but we 730
We legit, but forever dirty!
So even if I'm thin, G
That old sweatsuit, got a pocket full of them Benjies
I want a goose neck in the benzie
Still feel the pain from the cocaine frenzy
80s, 90s and 2Gs, knew I was too G, listened to Kool G!
No gun or knife then I'm throwing the two piece
Cop me a new pair of kicks if my shoes crease
Lines and holes, just like a loose leaf
Dope lines, bullet holes, homie, is you sleep?
Yeah, you better wake up then, you ain't gettin it
Get a job, cake up then!
If the nine don't work, throw the eight up then
I'm a crooked dude, but I'mma tell you straight up then
Yeah, we both rap but you know that the ghost trap
Back room from the back room with the dope track, big
[Verse: Chris Rivers]
I'm unchained, unblinded, unparallel minded
As I refined to combine with the finest finds of Titan
Vicious like lightning, Vikings enticed by full moons on islands
Filled with the loot that eluded troops of previous tyrant
Devious rhyming, see me when writing
Feasting with lions and preaching the science
To help me sleep and reap the defiance
No need for silence, my voice is heard through leagues in the darkness
I'm preaching the marches, I speak so deep
I preach through a carcass and speak to the spirit
Guaranteed deceased, read my lyrics
Chris seek it and feel it, the best just since they dreamed of a Phoenix
In hopes of rebirth, I broke in the Earth when I spoke in reverse
I wrote with compressed quota, put the diamond to dirt
And grew a money tree in custody of Chris & Dragon company
My cutlery is comfortably the sharpest of the underlings
That don't compare to no one
Verbals like a show gun, hotter than the whole sun
Bars are like a Volcon, I split in form, Voltron
An ocean's like a proton, compared to my emotions
Chris Rivers got the potions
That cures, I know the remedies
Equity is never seen
Type of guy you'll never meet
And still have me in memories
[Verse: Vinnie Paz]
This Guerrilla rap, right here, life in a box
Keep a razor under the tongue and slice with the ox
You'se a batti bwoi, you be in the cypher with cops
And the Freedom Arm cool, but I'm nicer with Glocks
Listen, I ain't gonna hold you, I'm liable to box
And roll four, five, six with the dice on your blocks
I'm a stealth bomb, move silent, sly as a fox
And while you at it, maricon, say goodbye to your pops!
My hand speed move at 200 nautical knots
The words' a gun, the rhyme is an audible shot
A horrible plot, but this is just a hobby to him
Like sippin' Grey Goose, smoking Bob Marley with him
You don't want war, you'll be counting bodies with him
In his house, John Gotti was just Godly to him
Any East Coast, rise on, probably kin
Probably connected to South Philly robbery with him!
Your on and on' probably gin
Looking like you got the monster, remarkably thin
The darker the sin, the darker that the sorcerer been
That's the opposite of life, that's the start of your end, stupid!
[Outro:]
Ha-ha-ha, Boxcutter Pazzy
Chris Rivers, Pinero The Ghost
Killadelph, Valpensy to New York
I'm not you, rapper!
I'm a G!
