歌曲 | Originators |
歌手 | Killarmy |
专辑 | Fear, Love & War |
作曲 : Hamilin, McWilliams | |
(9th Prince) | |
Yoaw! Whattup | |
This right here, is an explosion | |
For all the radio stations | |
Across United Nations, United States | |
Word up, turn this up right here | |
Aiyyoaw, aiyyoaw | |
Originators we came, gladiators, God-body regulators | |
We're street educators | |
I was born through the womb, of Emagene Hamlin | |
She's the creator of the Terminator - 9th Prince, rhyme slayer | |
Stayed in ten housing projects, razors, machine gun blazes | |
at'cha neighbors - Jamaican rum, no chaser | |
Number one contender, we can busts guns after dinner | |
Last man standin, he's the winner | |
Ghetto prime minister, Desert Storm ski-mask avengers | |
We move like ninjas in the winter | |
Brown-skin Adonis, slugs to the stomach, blood gush like Ramic | |
Mad man's bionic, check the weather climate | |
Strike like lightning, terrorists Islamic | |
A ghetto superhero, like Marvel Comics | |
Vertical limits, fresh notebooks I write anthems to crooks image | |
Cross the lines of scrimmage - I shoot you in your temple, | |
and leave your face shattered with dimples | |
Killa-Arm could never be so simple | |
Cross my heart, I won't die 'til your ass is crippled | |
In a wheelchair, knee-cap raps, flashbacks to digital, warfare... | |
(talking) | |
Yoaw, I wanna say whattup | |
to everybody who copped that first and second album | |
Word up, y'all real troops out there, yoaw | |
(9th Prince) | |
Aiyyoaw, my lions run through club Cheetah, with rusty heaters | |
That blast like lyrical heat-seekers through the speakers | |
Non-believers are deceivers - through the media | |
Lyrics try to teach ya, or walk through Harlem like Black Caesar | |
Razor blade, stashed inside the sole of my sneaker | |
Ill graphics, far from a savage | |
The streets is wicked like Halloween havoc | |
Little children with automatics | |
Imagine babies drive-by's in the cabbage | |
Rappers is like Peter Pan | |
or built like Sandman on the desert lands | |
I'm from Shaolin, my sword is a mic stand | |
You should slow ya glance, 9th Prince is in command | |
Of the stage, my heart pumps rage | |
Like a jungle lion, trapped inside a cage | |
I free slaves, through the airwaves of Hot 97 airplay | |
All my real soldiers, wave ya AK's and hand grenades | |
(talking) | |
Word the fuck up, the 9th Prizm | |
The new millennium, peace and blessings to all five boroughs | |
Brooklyn, Manhattan, Staten, word up | |
Queens, ya know, Long Island.. | |
Upstate, Connecticut, the whole tri-state.. | |
New Jers'.. peace and blessings to Killa-Arm | |
We armed and dangerous, for real | |
The new millennium, get ready.. | |
one love, two loves, three loves... |
zuò qǔ : Hamilin, McWilliams | |
9th Prince | |
Yoaw! Whattup | |
This right here, is an explosion | |
For all the radio stations | |
Across United Nations, United States | |
Word up, turn this up right here | |
Aiyyoaw, aiyyoaw | |
Originators we came, gladiators, Godbody regulators | |
We' re street educators | |
I was born through the womb, of Emagene Hamlin | |
She' s the creator of the Terminator 9th Prince, rhyme slayer | |
Stayed in ten housing projects, razors, machine gun blazes | |
at' cha neighbors Jamaican rum, no chaser | |
Number one contender, we can busts guns after dinner | |
Last man standin, he' s the winner | |
Ghetto prime minister, Desert Storm skimask avengers | |
We move like ninjas in the winter | |
Brownskin Adonis, slugs to the stomach, blood gush like Ramic | |
Mad man' s bionic, check the weather climate | |
Strike like lightning, terrorists Islamic | |
A ghetto superhero, like Marvel Comics | |
Vertical limits, fresh notebooks I write anthems to crooks image | |
Cross the lines of scrimmage I shoot you in your temple, | |
and leave your face shattered with dimples | |
KillaArm could never be so simple | |
Cross my heart, I won' t die ' til your ass is crippled | |
In a wheelchair, kneecap raps, flashbacks to digital, warfare... | |
talking | |
Yoaw, I wanna say whattup | |
to everybody who copped that first and second album | |
Word up, y' all real troops out there, yoaw | |
9th Prince | |
Aiyyoaw, my lions run through club Cheetah, with rusty heaters | |
That blast like lyrical heatseekers through the speakers | |
Nonbelievers are deceivers through the media | |
Lyrics try to teach ya, or walk through Harlem like Black Caesar | |
Razor blade, stashed inside the sole of my sneaker | |
Ill graphics, far from a savage | |
The streets is wicked like Halloween havoc | |
Little children with automatics | |
Imagine babies driveby' s in the cabbage | |
Rappers is like Peter Pan | |
or built like Sandman on the desert lands | |
I' m from Shaolin, my sword is a mic stand | |
You should slow ya glance, 9th Prince is in command | |
Of the stage, my heart pumps rage | |
Like a jungle lion, trapped inside a cage | |
I free slaves, through the airwaves of Hot 97 airplay | |
All my real soldiers, wave ya AK' s and hand grenades | |
talking | |
Word the fuck up, the 9th Prizm | |
The new millennium, peace and blessings to all five boroughs | |
Brooklyn, Manhattan, Staten, word up | |
Queens, ya know, Long Island.. | |
Upstate, Connecticut, the whole tristate.. | |
New Jers'.. peace and blessings to KillaArm | |
We armed and dangerous, for real | |
The new millennium, get ready.. | |
one love, two loves, three loves... |