AWA

Mortal Combat

248
3
  • 2011.06.21
  • 5:24
AWAで聴く

歌詞

The kiss of death on a rap pick Then you get a slap quick, so guard it with Chapstick In other words, protect and hold your own It only takes one punch to get the head flown Fists of fury, suckers get buried Cause the Kane got more spice than curry I am the flavor down on paper And nothing could save ya, from catchin the vapors Rhymes that'll sting your face like a quick jab And I'm rubbin em in just like Vicks say I'm captivatin, dominatin, innovatin, illustratin, fascinatin Motivatin, elevatin, terminatin, mutilatin Rhymes they're worth their weight in gold, bold, never sold to a bidder That claim to glitter, you're so bitter like kitty litter As for damage, don't tell me what another do Cause I quote that I'm R-A-W So make room, cause fighters are doomed Try to consume, and make your own tune A grave from a casket, a tisket a tasket You're rhymes out of basket, boy you get your ass kicked For frontin like you hittin hard when your arms are too short, to box with God So don't even touch cause I come with too much Address and bless any mic that I clutch And for a rapper to challenge my freestyle He must be senile, and that's why meanwhile back at the ranch... There goes the asiatic chosen one that's expandin with a new branch So many slept on the nonchalant act Now wake up sucker this is mortal combat I seize and freeze MC's with these degrees Put me to my knees, or at ease, chillllld please I break it down, to bring on the next act Rappers are so full of shit, they need Ex-Lax So stop griffin, your mind is driftin Prepare yourself cause I get swift and captivate the crowd but you can't understand At times I gotta say to myself, "God damn!" As I get hot, and still be gettin warmer And I don't have beef with no other performer Keep to myself never bother another But if a rapper tries to diss I crush the motherfucker! Frontin MC's that be tryin to riff need to save it, and don't even play with me when I react like a volcano eruptin I step to you and say, "Now what's up?" then every word'll be just like surgery Cuttin you open so rush to emergency Or even bow to your knees and below Or get played like a game of Nintendo J-O-K-E-S ain't my style I ain't a child that's why I don't smile I combine a line designed to find behind the mind so devine the other rappers resign As I go on, from night to morn Beginning to end, from Knowledge to Born Whenever rappers are lookin for static Looks like a job for King Asiatic N-E, send me, competitors Then again, it might just be better to just slow down you don't wanna throwdown I get busy, get you dizzy like a merry-go-round Feel the wrath of a Big Daddy raw rhyme And competition, prepare for wartime Be alert for where I drop the bomb at As I destroy you with mortal combat I roll so bold with soul control the whole patrol of folders molders towin black gold So let it be said, let it be read Cause I lead ahead, of others who rhymes are old as Pro-Keds Tryin to diss the Big Daddy repetoire Moi?? You steady screamin out a antique segment wrote As I just play em like a pregant roach and STOMP EM For tryin the forbidden Your rhymes ain't hittin, boy you won't be gettin none of, or in front of, cause every one of my adversaries, lack, you little son of o-bit-uary column, and read your name If you ever try to step to the Big Daddy Kane So any claimin or aimin to be champion against me? Psssh, can't be one I rank supreme and it's a rapper's dream to scheme and fiend for my technique but redeem Cause there's only room for one teacher Wise words from a wise man'll reach ya I teach freedom, justice, and equality Peace to the brothers and sisters that follow me Plenty poisoned minds of the people are ours Slaves, from mental death in power That's the reason before I drop this bomb I say peace to the Nation of Islam

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