Yeah, uh, The Dark Arts, AOTP, Yeah,
Feel like the 90's right here, yeah take em back
Yo I'm a pharaoh, my street magic been on deck
I'm the north Philly Imhotep, you ain't been no threat
Look at the walls to my lingual set
And the trim on the gold coffin where my demos kept
It's Kamachi, my legendary status is earned
With the ashes of dead faggots from the Vatican burned
I don't care unless the murder of the Pope is concerned
I'm Violent By Design with the scope and the urn
You sweet wearing sequins stroking a perm
I'm in the desert with fatigues tryna focus the germ
Yeah, and all you see is blocks of fire
Suicide bombers screaming "What?" to Allah
Y'all tryna play heavenly angels
Get your halos mangled and the throat of your savior strangled
Enough to baffle your ears, a little shrapnel from the chapel stairs
Ayo, my flow is pain
I feel nothing, I'm bleeding novocaine
This is a soldier game
Fuck 'em, buck 'em, blow his brain
I camel-clutch mics, put your fucking soul in flames
Take a hold of you and scold you with Jehovah's name
We fucking load and aim, ayo Chief Kamach'
Take these rappers and strangle 'em until they breathing stops
We talking weed and rocks, Desert E's and Glocks
The only thing that make me happier is bleeding cops
I only fuck around with ill rappers
My homie Celph got the heritage, stealth and all the ill clappers
You only mad cause your flame is dying
I ain't hard to find
You can catch me on the grind with Seamus Ryan
Master builder
Rap British Bulldog, boy, ask Matilda
Cats with the steel, young God
The soul bender with uncontrollable tempers
Leave you dead in your Nikes like
You was Heaven's Gate cult members
Yonder yo the, the money folder with that funky odor
Don't get it twisted like I'm speaking with the tongue of Yoda
You stay behind the bushes like a cop that's under quota
I'm saying, "Fuck the Bushes" like a foreign country soldier
Shay's worthy, my family play dirty
We continue to diss, you discontinued like a J-30
(Money wants you killed)
But you better tell cus to rely on M16s like D12 does
It's the Army of the Pharaohs
Make a threat, you're hardly a scarecrow
We bombard you with ammo, knocking off your sombrero
So move back, pendejo
You dealing with a lot of these guys
That rock silk suits with Mafia ties
I'm blazing hot, open my mouth, flames come out
You's a snitch, open your mouth, and names come out
So we gon' pop your top off and brains come out
Nigga I thought you said you knew what a gangsta 'bout?
Hang 'em out, these pussies is wet, leave 'em to dry
I do the work of the devil, I'm a hell of a guy
Unload the MP5 and leave your studio sprayed
And have blood squirting out your head like Coolio's braids
Doggy, this is how we slaughter heads
Catch you sleeping, stab you so deep
The tip of the blade puncture your waterbed
Cause I'm the type to slice the skin on your back off
Come back a week later and slice the motherfucking scab off