Styles P - War Room lyrics
rate me(feat. Chris Rivers & Vinnie Paz)
Everybody turned up, me I’m just burned up
Sourly, piffly, flying through the district.
My swag is in the weed bag, live up in the hotel
Ain’t got with the cheese at.
With the bees and the seeds at
Before back, you ease back
But a real homie, you rise up
Thinking before for long, cause I’mma size up.
You’re too old for the dumb shit
You’re too old for the numb shit
Hand on the gun grip,
The top down with the blind lid
Flying, thinking to hundreds
I’m in the juice game and the book game,
But I’m still rapping, got my mass and my cook game.
It’s mid night but we’re seven thirty
We’re legit, but forever dirty!
So we’ve been … old sweat suit
Got a pocket full of ‘em Benjies.
I’m on the goons neck in them benzie
Still feeling pain from the cocain frenzy.
80s, 90s and 2Gs, knew I was 2G, listen to cool G!
No gun and knife that I’m throwing a two piece
Got me a new pair, keeps up my shoes grease
Lines and hoes, just like a…
Dope lines… of hoes, homie, is you asleep?
Yeah, you better wake up and you might get it nigga
To get a job take up thin!
If the night don’t work, throw the eight up thin
I’m a crooked dude, but I’mma tell you straight up thin
If you both rap but you know that the ghost rap
Back room from the back room with the dope track.
I’m unchained, unbounded, unparallel, unminded
The genre refined, combined with the finest finds of Titan
Vicious, I like it! Fuck it … my full moon and islands
Show what the lute that the lute of troops of oblivious…
Devious rhyming, see me when…
Feasting with lions and preaching the silence
That help me sleep and read the defiance.
Sold me for silence, my voice is hurt to… in the darkness
I’m preaching the marches, I preach so deep, I preach to a cocky
And spit to the spirit, guarantee to see through my lyrics
.. the feelings that… say dream of a Phoenix
In hopes of a birth, I’m broking the Earth when I spoke of reverse
I wrote with compressed cold and put the diamond in the dirt
And grew a money tree in custody of… company
My…. is comfortably, the sharpest of the sharpest of the underlinks
And don’t compare to no one
Verbals like a show gun, hotter than the whole sun
Bust her like a whole gun, I’m splitting for and for…
I know she’s like a proton compared to my emotions
.. that cures the older remedies
Acuity is never seen
Type of guy you never meet
And you’ll sill have me in memory.
This gorilla rap right here, life in a box
People raised her under the tongue the slice of the ox
Use a body, boy, you’ll be in a site full of cops
End of freedom, I’m cool, but I’m nicer with gloves
Listen, I ain’t gonna hold you, I’m liable to box
And roll four, five, six with the dice on your box
I’m a still bum, move silent,…
And while you’re at the Marty Goon, say goodbye to your pops!
My hand speed, moving 200 nods to go nuts
The words of Gandhi... is an audible shot
Audible plot, but this is just a hobbie to him
Like shipping great goose, smoking Bob Merely with him.
You don’t want war, you become buddies with him
In his house John Gandhi was just Gandhi to him
And the East… probably him
Probably connected to South Philly, rhyming with him!
You’re on and on… probably gin
Looking like you got the monster remarkable thin.
The darker the sin, the darker that the souls ever been
I see the opposite of life, that’s the story that it ends stupid!
[Outro:]
Stupid! Ha-ha-ha
Chris Rivers, Benevolent ghost
Kill a... to New York
I’m not you, rapper!
I’m a G!
