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Are. You. Ready?! |
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Another Celph Titled mother******' banger. Bllllllat! |
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Yeah, uh huh. Hehehehe. Awe man, mother*******s, 813, that's right baby |
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Highcollide, Paradox, uh huh, Celph Titled |
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The mother******' Rubix Cuban |
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Yo let's show them how we get down |
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Yes, yes. Yeah, okay, you ready? Tampa representatives |
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Let's murder them. It's goin' down. Check it, yo. ************* that |
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[Verse One] [Highcollide] |
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Highcollide |
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I had a glock and held rifles |
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A million mega watts, it's Paradox and Celph Titled |
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You busters are not ready |
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Rugged and drop deadly |
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Touch as a pot heavy |
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In buckets in box Chevy's |
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My flow's destine, I'm a veteran at work |
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Leave your soul in the heavens and your skeleton in the dirt |
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If it ain't love that you feelin' than it's probably pain |
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Strike ya with Tampa Bay Lightning like a hockey game |
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I'm a flow specialist, I conquer the globe's premises |
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The most treacherous |
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Over your debt, toast beverages |
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Leavin' ya motionless while I'm causin' eclipses |
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Supreme vocalist, happen to be forced in existence |
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I'm electrical lyrically, fire like the sun |
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You'll need medical facilities or retirement funds |
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This is a Cuban |
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Puerto Rican connection |
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Seekin' perfection |
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Competition is needin' direction |
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A speakers craft |
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Sayin' I'm ill is like sayin' a cheetah's fast |
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I keep it movin' like a hundred meter dash |
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I'm too ferocious with |
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Styles that leave you hopelessness |
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Know who you provokin' ************* |
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You ******' with the ultimate |
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Blaow! |
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[Scratch chorus] [x2] |
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"Picture like you ain't seen it coming" - Paradox |
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"Yo, it's all extortion, for every man there's a coffin" - Highcollide |
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"I get's down and do my thing like I supposed to" |
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"*************s is on attack" |
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"What the ************* was y'all thinkin'" - Fat Joe 'Find Out' |
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[Verse Two] [Paradox] |
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Watch me crack open the sky, blacken your eye |
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Then leave you strokin' on the ropes swingin' eight miles high |
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Now I'm watchin' you die |
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Askin' why |
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You testin' X, is you mental? |
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(These mother*******s out they mind) |
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I be X Spawn, reborn with Tampa Bay residue |
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So bring the best of your crew |
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Learn a lesson or two |
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Invest in a vest or a preacher to start blessin' you |
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Believe it, this urban legend is true |
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For hip hop I'll bludgeon a fool |
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Cut 'em in two |
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Leave a muttering fool, with nothing to do |
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But speaks in forked tongues like a stuttering fool |
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I lurk in the home of southern crunk |
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Where cats get jumped |
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(And what) |
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We got the sawed off shotgun hands on the pump |
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I have sex with fly dimes and gangster ******* that pack nines |
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While I'm poppin' silencers |
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Writin' rhymes, gettin' my *************ne |
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I'm in this game for the love of the art |
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Comin' straight for your heart |
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Though some of y'all been hatin' me |
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Straight from the start |
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Paradox the black sheep of the Bay |
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(Where it get's dark) |
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The Judas creator |
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Crucify me now, but I resurrect three days later |
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Much greater |
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As one red eye Terminator |
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(You want more then we blazin' ya) |
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Tearin' flesh apart like a Florida gator |
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Made you afraid of the dark |
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Wish it was morning instead |
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Surprise somebody |
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Here comes the dawn of the dead |
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[Scratch Chorus] [x2] |
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"Picture like you ain't seen it coming" - Paradox |
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"Yo, it's all extortion, for every man there's a coffin" - Highcollide |
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"I get's down and do my thing like I supposed to" |
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"*************s is on attack" |
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"What the ************* was y'all thinkin'" - Fat Joe 'Find Out' |
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[Verse Three] [Celph Titled] |
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Y'all mother*******s better fall back |
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You're talkin' to a kingpin |
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Who write holy scriptures on a napkin with an ink pen |
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And y'all ain't real unless you on Floridian realty |
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Cause we don't keep it dirty down here we keep it filthy |
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I'm all over Tampa like Bob's Barricades |
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With bombs and grenades at your mother's crib givin' her serenade |
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Up in the club I might have snuck in a snub |
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So if it's beef bring the ruckus and a bucket for blood |
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And don't think we're gonna meet you outside just to thug |
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We gonna meet you outside with the pump |
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And the buckshot from the gauge will give you acne scars |
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Clap at me from your whip |
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I'm launchin' missile that'll lift the gravity out your car |
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************* your pistol burners |
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Cause we got mother******' handguns |
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That spit shells the size of Crystal Burgers |
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Duckin' the cops, leavin' you mother*******s stuck in a box |
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************* bubblin' rocks |
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I'm like the government up in my stocks |
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But up in the oven it's hot |
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We cook blazin' rap cakes |
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While y'all wack fakes make DAT tapes that's half baked |
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I'm sick, make a crack mother lactate |
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And let the mac take thirty pounds out of your estimated body weight |
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[Scratch Chorus] [x2] |
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"Picture like you ain't seen it coming" - Paradox |
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"Yo, it's all extortion, for every man there's a coffin" - Highcollide |
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"I get's down and do my thing like I supposed to" |
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"*************s is on attack" |
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"What the ************* was y'all thinkin'" - Fat Joe 'Find Out' |
