Take em to war son (Yeah) Yo wassup dog? Seven commandments, knahmean? Yo son, with the seven commandments
Chorus: (6x) Yo I'm about the army shit, the raw shit The military war hits with gun clips
(Shogun Assasson) Yo, my battleground's where I lounge Fightin wars from dusk til dawn In the trenches of hell There's more blood spilled than Hamburger Hill The planet Earth is the battlefield Enemy troops can't come face to face with death Black mission caught for cold steel The last art drill when I open fire Better aim to kill As the destruction that I reveal like revelations Drop Jews like parables that can't be seen with the eye like constellations You're lost in the nation with no mental vision Unseen strikes your vital like precision I'm camouflged in the large with ammunition
(9th Prince) I'm in deep meditation like the great Indian monk Dowmo Lyrical desperados thrown like a torpedo from black masks like Zorro I froze all the scriptures and literature of killers Riddlers and Hitlers Sick photographers who paint bloody pictures Wu-Tang is the foundation, we movin populations And you can not stand then control the minds of Asians Candy cat raps gets your tongue cut off and run through his back Sabotage savages got stabbed as I watched blood drip from their fabrics Madman ran up in the church and stuck the reverend Stabbed him with a cross, some say he was stuck by the seven The seven commandments Metric equivalents Meaning many niggas died for pleasures
(Dom PaChino) I wagin guerilla warfare, supply the yellow jackets Each one containin a mini sovereign homing missile Fittin your sides ragged Puerto Rican terrorist from the Middle East refusin the mark of the beast Increase your energy by one bar while I unleash Thoughts that remain on your brain like scars for life Made possible by the mic device I slice wieldin a sharp instrument Sharpened in the temple of pyramids Used to drill a hole through the minds of the ignorant It's my assignment burn up the climate usin rays from the sun Dom PaChino madman assassinatin tracks with Shogun
(Street Life) Yo bring it on, I deal with this like my first born My brain form blow MCs away like Desert Storm 21st century crime for you being born US currency got me itchin my palms P.L.O. killer tactics like I support a fact Dead back was the feedback, Park Hill's badass I deal with this shit like it's my last So to speak what you say son go have a blast I'm livin for the city, I burn as the world turn First degree poetry Hold your headpiece, when I release I clear the streets Killarmy passed the heat so I'ma dead the piece P.L.O. is the Street Life out in the streets
(Beretta 9) Mentally I be ready, pass the machette My thoughts travel fast like Mario Andretti Racin through this hellhole or ghetto through the poverty It's all about survival so I can risk the robbery Goin through the struggle, trials and execution This is my solution to this revolution Pay close attention, lyrical precision My mind be my war guide, observe, learn and listen Knowledge before your wisdom unleashed for the children '96 be buildin the stat or be killed in
[Intro: Streetlife (Size/7)] Yeeeeeaah! Yeah Ain't where you from (it's where you at) You got the blunt (I got the Mac) You got the clip (I got the gat) You got the {*click, click*} You got the clip (I got the gat) I got my front (I gotcha back) It's like.. it's like that It's like that - Yeah.. It's like that - Yeah, yeah
[Streetlife] Shaolin What!?! Blood, God and monster truck Come through, splash mud on ya three-piece tux Niggas act bulletproof like they can't get touched Don't make me hop out the sunroof and start hittin you up I'm outta control when the dough's low, rob and tote Never vacated a hoe, bomb with cons and pros I might snatch ya jewels, pawn ya gold Call P.O. and be like - FUCK PAROLE! Y'all have got to go and became a mould Watch me drop and load, FIRE IN THE HOLE! Here to change the game, started sayin names When ya ass get shot, the cops know who the blame You watch too much movies, wanna be all talk and Kane 2Pac, everybody wanna act the same Feel my pain, rap niggas dyin for fame Feel my pain, rap niggas is dyin for fame
[Chorus: Streetlife (Size/7)] (You Wanna Rap?) Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Tote the Mac?) Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Lounge in the back?) Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Platinum plaques?) Who the fuck wanna be an MC?
[Streetlife] Most of y'all rap cats is weak, talk is cheap Check my rap sheet, concrete, strictly Street I put in work, overtime, I build with sleek Hail, rain, sleet, I walks the beat Fucks, M.O. - no justice, no piece Fuck the judge, for feedin my thugs to the beast I know the ledge thats why I keeps one in the head Make one false move, fill ya body with lead I'm true to the game, stay true to my name Off the chain? Quick to put two in ya brain I'm from the Hill, where niggas shoot to kill Test my skill, nigga I wish you will Don't front for me, give niggas lumps in three I beat you down in front ya mom, wife and seed Call ya monks, I'm out to call ya bluff You ain't enough, word up, you straight ass and butt Shaolin What!?!
[Chorus: Streetlife (Size/7)] Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (You Wanna Rap?) Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Tote the Mac?) Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Lounge in the back?) Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Platinum plaques?) Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Stretch Caddilac?) Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Blow ya stack?) Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Flip ya hat?) Who the fuck wanna be an MC? (Pimp like The Mack?)
