[Ikon the Verbal Hologram]
Yeah
You frontin' style to me
It's war when the beat drop
Just anotha mothafucka gonna see Pac
You the type that'll run when the heat pop
The type that'll hide a gun when he see cops
But not me, I'll aim a thirty-eight at they crown
Show up the next day at they wake with a frown
Yeah, and then I'll laugh at the widow
Have my man Stoupe'll blast through the window
Foul when I was young but I survived karma
Drop bombs like a b-25 on ya
Yeah, it's vietnam in the trenches
Just keep my seat warm on the benches
I run with wild puerto ricans that hit L's
And study classical verses by *Big L*
We came up in the game at the same time
And read one-hundred-fifty rappers with the same rhyme
Yeah, yeah, uh huh
(Break: when I touch the microphone I usually rock it... soldiers don't like it? Then you're psychotic... it's on to the death til' we settle the score)
I'm a mothafuckin' baboon
Hit you with thirty seven stab wounds
Bury your body deep in earth inside a black tomb
You scared of the rain, you fear weather
I'm hardcore like pall-bearer in sheer terror
I'll be ready for war with suede timbs on
Y'all ain't ready to brawl until Vin's gone
Won't stop till you dead in hell
Vinnie Paz, mega-child daddy (eh-grendel?)
Was bred to fail, yeah, because the beast in all of us
I was rockin' Diadoras while you was eatin' porridge
I was listenin' to the *Hilltop Hustlers*
While you was duckin from sounds of popped mufflers
You was playin' little games with your fathers
I was robbin' mothafuckas for they Starters*
You a novice, and I'm a old vet
And I was there when the heavens and the globe met
Break
Yeah
We ain't safe if the bomb exists
So I side with the Vietnamese communists
If you wit me mothafucka raise your arm and fist
And we can bust a fuckin' cap and see if God exists
I scarred your wrists, with a poisonous rusty razor
If its Jedi Mind Tricks then it must be flavour
And it ain't safe no more
Ain't safe in the mothafuckin' place no more
Get laced in your upper-body, face and jaw
You the type of fagget we ain't got the patience for
We break the law, while we pay our respects to Allah
But if it's beef then we be sprayin' your neck with a four
I love to hear the sound of a corpse drop
So protect your fuckin' neck like a cough drop
I let the four shot, from different latitudes
So keep it movin' like a bitch that got an attitude