ARMY OF THE PHARAOHS - Frontline lyrics

rate me

Uh, AOTP in this nigga

We don't rumble no more

I will take it back and disrespect a nigga sly to you before I pull that ratchet out

I'm going in

Uh...

Why you running with those lames that's tapped out

AOTP is front line with they macs out

And we don't rumble no more we comin' for war

I can hit from a long range don't care if you draw, and uh

Your eyes can't hit what they can't see

The M1, will melt a nigga wig like gangrene

And my trees is laced, bucket is half licked

My whole team got laced, half of them rich

The other half, originate from the best part

My right hook will leave your face covered with stretch-marks

When the swellin' go down, I'm tellin' ya clowns

The next step is fillin' up your melon with rounds, and uh

This is warfare, niggas in war gear

The AOTP, whole roster is all here

So fall back if you thinkin' of beefin' dog

I have my nigga Reef tie your moms to tree with barb

The heavy metal king hold big shit I cock the heaters

Fat, bald, Puerto Ricans and the pasta eaters

Every move I make righteous, God Allah can see us

Peace to Abraham, Ishmael, Jacob, Jesus

Peace to every man, woman and child

To Mohammad and his glorious muezzin Bilal

You a swine eater that means all your energy foul

I'm a divine leader that means all my enemies bow

Yeah, but I ain't worried 'bout my enemies now

Even though at times my team can be incredibly wild

Don't attempt to ever get me to smile

Unless you wanna see what bullets do to heads of a child

Behold a Pale Horse, y'all niggas is running a frail course (Get up!)

Ain't nothin' better than smellin' a stale corpse

Depicted, through your skeleton, wear elegant gloves

Purple blood on the fingers we lock from hell and above

The shell from a slug, turn grizzly bears into cubs

I make the birds fly south when we get it crunk in the club

It's nothin' to us, we bustin' militant verses

Belligerent syndicate, we spit the gift and the curses

You niggas worthless, I see you in the cypher with ya backpack

I'm way past that, may God strike ya

You sounded like you was reading, you was off-beat even

So you left with ya jaw leakin', I punished 'em all speakin'

We all beefin', niggas is running rampid

I curve verbs, the type that can serve Sampras

Y'all all infantile niggas in pampers

There's no cure to my sickness, I'm rap's cancer

Let's get it crackin' what happened to all a y'all?

These QD stars got the people screaming for encore

We love raw, direct, uncut raw

And ya little particles we bound to dust and mop

Rap shit is my rope, and I ain't givin' a slack

Main question in the air man, who bringin' it back?

Gotta' be us, honestly "In God We Trust"

Apply pressure to the point and it will probably bust

Don't ever strike me, rollin' with Crypt that's more than likely

My Daily operation for the cash on the nightly

We all icy, hustle just for the grams

And breaking bread with the Pharaohs man, that's part of the plan

(It go, it go, it go)

Food off your plate I scrape, I will never cater

Demoz tryin' to come up like a elevator

Green money, make paper, like I own a forest

He's funny, rap name should be Martin Lawrence

Never hated, I ain't tryin' say I never made it

Now my confidence is high like it's medicated

Call me a loose charm, I'm off the chain

I'm off the wall like in memory of my name

Versatile with the flow, they all the same

Ghetto can't walk right, I borrow the cane

Raincoat, umbrella stop all your rain

The industry a buffet, I eat all I can

So fuck if you next and fuck a duet

You niggas don't want to play me like Russian Roulette (Nope)

Man you DVD rappers soundin' comfortable, bet

This not an exercise tape, why you bustin' a sweat? (Nigga)