Henry the 8th (feat. Vinnie Paz, Chief Kamachi, Reef the Lost Cauze & Planetary)
Army of the Pharaohs
Hip-hop
6,224
Créditos
Artistas intérpretes
Jedi Mind Tricks
Intérprete
Army of the Pharaohs
Intérprete
Vinnie Paz
Intérprete
Chief Kamachi
Intérprete
Reef the Lost Cauze
Intérprete
Planetary
Intérprete
Vincent Luviner
Rap
COMPOSICIÓN Y LETRA
E. Littlepage
Autoría
S. Lacey
Autoría
M. Collazo
Autoría
M Henzey
Autoría
Vincent Luviner
Autoría
Letra
Yeah, it's murderous
Bloody murderous
Blood
It's spelled doom
Pharaoh Club, baby
For whom the bells toll, Vinnie Paz, I call hell home
Put the ratchet to the side of your face like a cell phone
Any way you wanna look at it, it spell doom
Vinnie Pazienza be proud that you you fell to him
Me and Shareef, we stronger than pillars in Greece
You need to over-stand that pharaohs are still in the streets
You need to know that we got beef but we willin' to peace
You need to know that we got hate and it's still for police
It's Juju Mob, and Army of the Pharaoh clique
We on some revolution Amadou Diallo shit
I like to watch your brain explodin' when the hollow hit
It's Vinnie Paz, Louie Dogs, Kamachi follow it
Yo, it's my house, like RUN! controllin' the '80s
Flow very crazy like I spit the blood of Rosemary's baby
Slang fire like a hustle in Haiti
Couple holes for the souls, pitchfork for the daisies
Ashes for urns, I'm a murderer maybe
A lavish little Lucifer burnin' the hazy
Faced out, still could get a hold of the ladies
Hit from Madam Bavaskier in a older Mercedes
This is death speakin', the smell of fresh flesh wreakin'
Get a funeral organ and the best dressed deacon
Juju tongue, voodoo come, eye of the pharaohs
Blood pour, heart of a chump, jump from the arrows
We got a message for ya
Yeah, our squads ain't checkin' for ya
And if it's beef, we'll produce the Smith & Wesson's on ya
AOTP, Juju Mob, we bossin' ya clique
Rain fire on this hip hop shit
The king Reef raw, on the streets, I'm King Cauze
Wild the fuck out, beat my chest like King Kong
(Is this thing on?)
I'm tryin' to channel the youth
I rock the crown of Caesar, and Hannibal's boots
They call me animal tooth
Use your bones as a back scratcher
I'm allergic to dirt weed and wack rappers
My hand's too gritty, I just let the gat smack ya
I dropped outta school, motherfuck a backpacker
Double cross us and we'll bomb on you bitches
You a fuckin' fruitcake like what my aunt sent for Christmas
My dogs relentless and we ain't tryin' to be friends
My gun attach to my hip like a siamese twin
It's a critical beatdown, QD **** hit the street now
Bangin' beats out, thug **** throw they heaters out
It's pussy **** like y'all scared to leave the house
Once they retrieve 'em out, let 'em see the clouds
I make the most gangsta **** hit the concrete
And start snitchin', pointin' fingers like they on Wall Street
My squad deep, we the "Gods and Generals"
Type of **** too drunk, we dodge the interviews
We came a long way from cipherin' all day
When days was all play, now we rhymin' for strong pay
Outerspace got a strong hold on the game
We reign, you minor leaguers, we breezin' the Hall of Fame
We got a message for ya
Yeah, our squads ain't checkin' for ya
And if it's beef, we'll produce the Smith & Wesson's on ya
AOTP, Juju Mob, we bossin' ya clique
Rain fire on this hip hop shit
We got a message for ya
Yeah, our squads ain't checkin' for ya
And if it's beef, we'll produce the Smith and Wesson's on ya
AOTP, Juju Mob, we bossin' ya clique
Rain fire on this hip hop shit
Written by: E. Littlepage, Lacey Sharif Talib, M Henzey, M. Collazo, S. Lacey, V. LUVINER
