Lyrics

Outerspace, nigga! I'mma beat your asses Warchild, Planetary I came, to take the world by storm Transform every word, put my life in the song It don't really matter if it's right or it's wrong You gon' feel what we do when the mic's turned on Gonna, surrender your life, we ready to fight Like King Syze spit heavy on mics, any of hype is over Street's cobra, free souljah, in to take the streets over We told you, nigga, don't ever disrespect our click Get found in the ditch, with your son and ya bitch Cause I'm expected by fame, we proven murderers Top shelf verbalists with words I spit It's simple, instrumentals get scared to hear me I can nose write though, I got potential clearly I'm from Philladel, the place where the streets is watching And getting your ass whooped is the only option Get up! Throw your hands in the air or shut up Me and your atmosphere, yo what up? Something for the DJ to scratch, you're caught up Babygrande is the label that pays me Just any beat ain't gonna amaze me All to my days be, you grind up Let me find out yo that we're twins Maybe there's a equal of space 90 miles seperate Philly from the atmo Who clam they came, it must be how they Snapple Or work whole day, make the X go Everytime I'mma hit you, I just go I'm a radical, just medical, I'm a terror Flat bring hot weather, ya get to that? Anyone deal with that, gon' bust Three balls in my area, I'm gon' pop When this world gonna find my whole proton??? Barried under??? but it still the kill Fronting any other??? was a threat, better yet They raised up my statue, at least once I'mma catch you Other times it might be another by the rhyme If that's the case, man it's going outerspace I came, to take the world away Long time anticipated so the world awakes Strong arm affiliated, watch what you say To a fifth executioners, East PA Play game off the chain, that's the least to say Spit flames off the brain, cause we don't play Keep my dawgs 'profaso', we don't stray If the cooking to ya numb heads, we don't lay Put rocks in this bitch, from NY to Philly Told the block when it rained, I'd like to keep it filthiest War, hell is out not even the beast can kill me Starving artist on the mic, only a feast can fill me OS reigns supreme, and y'all can hate on it Your dudes ain't crunk, if you can't stay on it Your beats still not, if you can't break on it And the track ain't played unless you put Space on it
Writer(s): Christoph Bauss, Derek Murphy, Mario Collazo, Marcus Albaladejo Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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