Warrior of Rap. I hold tight my reign, Antiquity the door for both ways. Deviate from the mainline rap, the line stopper, the doomsday rapper is back, the rhyme shocker. Hit the wax with a second score, prior to this was Style Wars. Bring forth the sucker who try to buff up the scene! But Hijack comin’ correct and now we’re steamed! If a rap is the name of the game and you’re inspired! The essence is Kamanchi Sly and then try! Then I burn the grey, await their return. Expostulate. Slay, serve then burn. Will strong to prolong the rights of those wronged. Topping the charts with the Hip Hop song. Face the ‘gator. Riot inciter. Kamanchi Sly known as the Rhyme Writer!
The money maker. Hip Hop faker. Perpetrator. And James Brown Rhythm Taker. For some monies raked in the sale. Now K Sly must write true hate mail. See green remits for the take. Rake in the cash from the Hip Hop break. Heroes are zeroes. Prides have been snatched. Wack on wax with the deadstar badge. You make it smooth, but I get confused. Hardcore never bore! That’s what I choose! I refuse the system. Punks I list ‘em. Dismiss the Shit, the bricks that bear with ‘em! Claim for the crowd embraced in the shroud of the weak, wait embed them sounds Equate the terms of the funky scene! Enter the scene, DJ Supreme..
Rap is doomed so erect the tomb. Anger fills the minds of stong willed. Some of them kill. They bastardise rap! Smuggle the crap with a JB track. Coming straight from this … that my thoughts are clear. I’ve been sincere … and you sin, fear! But this is the calm before the storm. When rap doomsday will be dawn. Top of the Pops. Ambitions fly. I see visions of death as Hip Hop dies. The truth revealed. The truth won’t conceal. We have the power the strength to heal. So warn of the cuts and who’s shot survives. Eyes open wide. We can’t be denied. We represent the streets. Some suckers heard DJ Undercover serves…
London’s waiting in the shadows long. From out of the war they claim vengeance strong Take my advice with rhymes concise. Once or twice the style shall suffice. All the calm attitudes get respect. And you hear my tune and push the eject. Embarrassment waits. The mind it plays tricks. London Supreme as the time mine ticks. Hell bent. In the light. Criticise. Styles Wars was the first to open eyes. Flick with the wrist invent a stone tone twitch. The group they grip and rip to evict. It’s the scratch that summons death. Feel remorse in hell. The last breath. Those bells. Sounding the Knell. Summoning suckers to heaven or hell.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
