Feast Of The Wolves (исполнитель: Army of The Pharaohs)
[Vinnie Paz] Yeah...hahaha.... Vinnie P! Celph Titled, Apathy Yeah, walk with me! It's the return of the most [bad word] grimy on Earth It's a funeral in every single line of my verse Your mind'll just burst, with every line of Solomon's curse [bad word] a hummer, Vinnie Pazienza driving a hearse It climb to reverse, like the lyrics on a dirty record I carry thirty weapons, burn you with my .30 Desert Should learn to accept it, it's a path of [bad word] I earn my wage with a 30 you pass, we'll be buckin' It's no [bad word] discussion, I'm as hard as granite I hope my vocal will choke you and then orbit the planet And then cross the Atlantic, Pharaohs is causing a panic Arms will be brawling with planet, saw us and called the mechanics My baby girl is a .40 cal (.40 cal) I used to tell my older brother, "Little shorty, wow" (Shorty wow) But that was then daddy this is now You can suck my [bad word] you little [bad word] [bad word] your block about to bow [Hook: Celph Titled] You better make way, the [bad word] wolves are back We back at it like a bad habit, no, we ain't having it (Tell'em!) You heard we came down (Smack 'em!) if they make a sound (NO!) We ain't backing down (NO!) we ain't repping them Get 'em? We got 'em (Pick 'em up, pick 'em up!) - - ] Onyx Shoot 'em? We shot 'em (Understand what I'm saying?) - -] Ghostface Killah Get 'em? We got 'em (Pick 'em up, pick 'em up!) - - ] Onyx Shoot 'em? We shot 'em (Understand what I'm saying?) - - ] Ghostface Killah [Apathy] [bad word] around with the Army and get a split wig Like Santa Claus, bringing gifts to a crips' crib Cause you're the type that a phony when you try to fight Hide behind a bouncer and your homies when wild'n right Nowadays, [bad word] nerd poets be trying to write On the mic, looking like a Napoleon Dynamite The foamiest fall, like foliage when they brawl Tongue spit black magic, unholiest of all Like the planets revolve around suns and space I got plans that involve large guns and waste I got flows that evolve beyond the human race Try to spit 'em in your lips or off your tongue and your face I'm toxic waste, I'm top-secret box lock the safe I'm blocks with shot cops only dropped in lakes I'm crack-rock and base with a cosmic taste To put the fiends into space where the rockets race [Hook] [Celph Titled] Yo, is there heaven for a gangster? No, but there's [bad word] for a [bad word] Put on my work outfit, with a belt for my ratchet You gonna melt when the gats spit, shoot your mother at your funeral She fell in the casket, how convenient is that [bad word] Shoot a flare at my troops, and we letting the gats flame 'em Put stairs in the booth, and we stepping our rap game up I'm a boss, but I take orders, from gun exporters Plus I got a keen sense for sniffing out tape recorders You a snitch? We'll rape your daughter And bring her down to the basement to tape record her Get your best entertainment lawyer, cause we about to extort ya Fake thug, Tom Sawyer, yeah I saw ya, we'll saw ya With the Black and Decker, slice savagely I don't gotta use God's name in vain to get my soldiers to blasphemy And I won't say I'm the best since Rakim and Pac and them Better yet, I'm the best since Mozart & Bach and them