Massacre On The Frontline
[Intro]
Yeah, bitch!
These motherfuckers wanna go to war!?
Aaah!
[Verse 1]
Defy gravity, the master of Isaac Newton
Embrace my insanity, tyrannical mutant
The conclusion, I'm a ruthless rhyme producer
My spit physically leave you with enough contusions
No filter on my raps unlike radio pollution
While I'm killing these tracks, to break the illusions
I find it amusing, how you became a nuisance
Who gave up free speech and now blames the constitution?
We only keep guns to protect us from police
And can't forget the government invading our beliefs
Even tho I'm not a man of religious ideas
I know they plotting to frame me on various crime scenes
They won't find me, several steps ahead
That the entire UN, begs for help
Ferocious, demonic... I escaped from hell
I won't rest 'til these motherfuckers all becomes dead!
[Interlude]
You motherfuckers know I do this shit!
Any type of song... any motherfucking style!
They can't fuck with this shit!
[Verse 2]
We got things to discuss and it ain't the sunny weather
The devil's on my shoulder and I'm loving the pressure
I don't collab with rappers waving monopoly chedda
Should you ever piss me off, no apologies never!
I'm focused while you're just a sloppy vendetta
Now let me talk about ya beats, they the worst copies ever
Instrumentals going AWOL when I pop the Beretta
But personally, I think an autopsy's better
They was eager to collaborate, but couldn't get on
I grabbed the CB radio, couldn't get a response
They feared that I'd retaliate 'til all of 'em gone
But I was requesting a few verses on a couple songs
Now it's come to this, I'm addressing the cause
Like that cypher session, you managed to cut me off
So I spitted a few bars, lot of people think it's odd
Back in twenty ten, we was cool while passin' the bong
Crafting many songs, but I was never in ya group
Cuz I'm a solo artist, confronting ya booth
And if you mention me back, I'll take a shit on ya raps
Ain't no motherfucking diss track, I'm only gonna get back
My credibility to lyrically murder my competition
Opposition, it's whatever when I climb the top of visions
(Rrgh!) I'm stomping down these bitches
Macro fitness bench-pressing bars from my victims
Spit armor piercing bullets through ya own sniper scope
When I deliver with an incompressible cypher flow
Snatch microphones to provoke the unknown
My ocean flow is giving it a technical overload
The grip sealed tight, I'm never letting go
I develop sick concepts with my eyes closed
Rhymes glow, leave you hypnotized like media plans
I'm encrypting the message with my pineal gland
Once a calcified third eye, couldn't see shit
Then I took a lot of drugs, like an LSD trip
A spiritual ascension or a hellish deep pit
It's whatever, plenty casualties won't bleed quick
[Interlude]
See that's my problem... this close-minded society
Where you can't take a peak outside the fucking science proof box?
Fuck outta here!
[Verse 3]
Gimmie the pen again, I'm better than I ever been
Taking all ya chedda, my Berettas will forever sin
Remember this, El Bandito with the feathered quill
To ultimately kill, disintegrate your penmanship
Explicit to the core, this is syllables of war
Pound that metal in ya head, killing never get's me bored
This is decibel damage into the planet's living core
Lyrically raw, I pillage for more, tell 'em you gone
I search and destroy with the burners deployed
Verbal layers, other rappers detached, I'm annoyed...
You ain't elevating, got ya vocals strangled, yo
You ain't reaching longer than a local talent show
Claim you keep it underground and that's where you gone be
Deep under the ground, fuck ya mumbling sounds
Done in one round, rappers watch out you all die
It's all mandatory, massacre on the frontline