HipHop Lyrics:
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[Intro: Warcloud]
Yo
Gun! Powder! Keg!
Warcloud, Professional, Vulgar
Aiyo, it's how we rock-rock it
It's how we rock yo yo
It's how we rock-rock it
It's how we rock it, yo yo
Warcloud, aiyo
[Chorus: Warcloud]
The art of mic rocking, the art of turn tables
Grafiti train yard like wax words that's fatal
Trouble is my business, flier raps then box kites
Bump into and slump you with heavy pistols, we rock mics
The art of mic rocking, the art of turn tables
Grafiti train y'all like wax words that's fatal
Welcome to the bunk house, pin ball, you age
While I gun rappers down in arcades, crumble the page
[Warcloud]
Soap box races the ghostest drags from Hollow
Loungin' in the back with the chief streak of water fire
Catch your pretty chick spring fruit juice, I'm glock
Niggas wanna be criminals but they ain't smart
You could never ice me and just too ice and di's
British sellin' cheap shitty guys and gritty flys
Ever since an unruly kid boggled a great
Took a snap shot in the tree at Will Rogers's estate
Right by the polo fields or the box
Total whiter mall is hot, smoulder wit' pox
Roll them in the box, drop rocks, they cock glocks
Clock you out your socks with the ox, the knot props
Under old lady's house bangin' pans and pots
Regardless on the block, Hop Scotch we hide Jacks
Guns at thirty mobs for thirty cops that shot
We ride for blue apples on yachts with alot of wop
Champagne tops pop in a dark spot in watts
Ride alot, niggas sleep on cots, you cot the knocks
I bought a nice watch, got hype thoughts and motts
Roll you on a jot, like pops you got thought
Tart, what you saw too colonial down in Lexington
Tart, what you saw too colonial down in Lexington
Biker hitchhiker chick had you old in the wait
She's full of problems that she likes to make, I'm breaking cake
Jolly break your face with a paper mate, we church mice
Starvin' like an old fat man, my gats jam
Dead mans game, I'll murder you 'til I'm sleepy
Repay, might break these on the outside of my tipee
[Professional]
Yo I sleep with conviction, hit you where your bone'll rubble
And I wanna susceptible to disease, the art of mic rocking
Turntables, grafiti and weed
Mics, turntables, grafiti and weed
How you supposed to see me with your vision impaired?
I chopped your tongue out of your mouth and leave you dead on the stairs
Chorus
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