The Real
Yeah, Who gonna equal this, none of them count
The sum's the whole of their parts so no point in interrupting 'em now
They just divide themselves by themselves, staying boxed under the ground
Square roots, no fucking around, we nail it
They tools man, they wanna compare cuticles
The last one's standing out, like the chair's musical
Peace and games now, but ain't a distant scene to see
The blast cavities indicative the history between us
It's been war, and all's fair in it
Beware of the truth, can't raise troops off of fairy bread
At this range, our caliber won't put a hole in your head
They'll blow your head clean off your neck, bomb squad stomp in
Lock step, Illy Al, Grey Ghost, Mantrizzle
Trigga Trials in the building, supplying death till demand filled
It's a minefield, blow up appeal
Their LP's landfill soon as we sign seal and deliver the real, uh
""Hydro Bazooka shit"" ""Hit em where it hurts""
""Blow them motherfucking backback out""
""We keeps it real inside the battlefield-battlefield
Battle-battle-battlefield""
""This ain't rap-rapping""
""This is warfare""""Bitch""
""Nobody move til I say-say so""
""Time's up over-over, blaow!""
I traded in an AK47 for a pile of 45S
So my weapon is the music in the war tonight
Call this gorilla warfare cos I'm about to go ape shit
Grey Ghost, Jeremedy double agent
Door to door killer, semi-automatic villain
Spit it at a million miles a minute 'til I'm finished
Send a prayer to mother earth cos we tortured the girl
Write lyrics as a way of declaring war on the world
Words of mass destruction (WMDS)
Instructions only seen by a couple of MCs
Playing cops and robbers, I would always play cadet
A plank of wood with a stick taped to it as a bayonet
A rapscallion's adorned in medallions
Don't ever wanna fuck with me and my battalion
Strictly lyrical kid, criminal mind
Scribble over your lyric page to cross enemy lines
Hydro Bazooka shit Hit em where it hurts
Blow them motherfucking backback out
We keeps it real inside the battlefield-battlefield
Battle-battle-battlefield
This ain't rap-rapping
This is warfare, bitch
Nobody move til I say-say so
Time's up over-over, blaow!
Who could even assume that another living human
Could possibly do what I'm doing, let alone prove it
I move in and out of reality, truly unique anatomy
This unity on a track is nuclear fusion
A volatile, highly flammable, collusion of chemicals
Caught on a collision course with whoever try stepping to
Arms dealer got my crew standing sentinel
Checking the bomb is armed and to the letter exceptional
No expectations, we merely make examples
Rap to break records, occasionally clear samples
Tamper with the fabric of classic rap shit
Put a tear right through it and stare right through it
As far as I'm concerned, it's there for my amusement
So when I tear mics, dude, it's me at at my truest
Soothsaying superhuman sharp shooter, who's playin'
I'm aiming at you, setting 'em ablaze in the booth
Hydro Bazooka shit Hit em where it hurts
Blow them motherfucking backback out
We keeps it real inside the battlefield-battlefield
Battle-battle-battlefield
This ain't rap-rapping
This is warfare, bitch
Nobody move til I say-say so
Time's up over-over, blaow!