Styles P - War Room lyrics

[Verse: Styles P] Everybody turned up, me I'm just burned up Sour lit, piff lit, flying through the district My swag's in the weed bag Live up in the hotel, hangout where the G's at Where the B's and the C's at? You fall back, or you ease back But a real homie'll rise up Think of the 4-4 long, you got me sized up I'm too old for the dumb shh- Cold for the numb shh- Hand on the gun grip The top down with the blunt lit Flying, thinking of hundreds I'm in the juice game and the book game But I'm still rapping, got my ma** and my cook game It's midnight but we 730 We legit, but forever dirty! So even if I'm thin, G That old sweatsuit, got a pocket full of them Benjies I want a goose neck in the benzie Still feel the pain from the c**aine frenzy 80s, 90s and 2Gs, knew I was too G, listened to Kool G! No gun or knife then I'm throwing the two piece Cop me a new pair of kicks if my shoes crease Lines and holes, just like a loose leaf Dope lines, bullet holes, homie, is you sleep? Yeah, you better wake up then, you ain't gettin it Get a job, cake up then! If the nine don't work, throw the eight up then I'm a crooked dude, but I'mma tell you straight up then Yeah, we both rap but you know that the ghost trap Back room from the back room with the dope track, big [Verse: Chris Rivers] I'm unchained, unblinded, unparallel minded As I refined to combine with the finest finds of Titan Vicious like lightning, Vikings enticed by full moons on islands Filled with the loot that eluded troops of previous tyrant Devious rhyming, see me when writing Feasting with lions and preaching the science To help me sleep and reap the defiance No need for silence, my voice is heard through leagues in the darkness I'm preaching the marches, I speak so deep I preach through a carca** and speak to the spirit Guaranteed deceased, read my lyrics Chris seek it and feel it, the best just since they dreamed of a Phoenix In hopes of rebirth, I broke in the Earth when I spoke in reverse I wrote with compressed quota, put the diamond to dirt And grew a money tree in custody of Chris & Dragon company My cutlery is comfortably the sharpest of the underlings That don't compare to no one Verbals like a show gun, hotter than the whole sun Bars are like a Volcon, I split in form, Voltron An ocean's like a proton, compared to my emotions Chris Rivers got the potions That cures, I know the remedies Equity is never seen Type of guy you'll never meet And still have me in memories [Verse: Vinnie Paz] This Guerrilla rap, right here, life in a box Keep a razor under the tongue and slice with the ox You'se a batti bwoi, you be in the cypher with cops And the Freedom Arm cool, but I'm nicer with Glocks Listen, I ain't gonna hold you, I'm liable to box And roll four, five, six with the dice on your blocks I'm a stealth bomb, move silent, sly as a fox And while you at it, maricon, say goodbye to your pops! My hand speed move at 200 nautical knots The words' a gun, the rhyme is an audible shot A horrible plot, but this is just a hobby to him Like sippin' Grey Goose, smoking Bob Marley with him You don't want war, you'll be counting bodies with him In his house, John Gotti was just Godly to him Any East Coast, rise on, probably kin Probably connected to South Philly robbery with him! Your on and on' probably gin Looking like you got the monster, remarkably thin The darker the sin, the darker that the sorcerer been That's the opposite of life, that's the start of your end, stupid! [Outro:] Ha-ha-ha, Boxcutter Pazzy Chris Rivers, Pinero The Ghost k**adelph, Valpensy to New York I'm not you, rapper! I'm a G!