Текст песни Army of the Pharaohs - Sword and Bullet (feat. Doap Nixon, Crypt the Warchild, Demoz & Vinnie Paz)
I can't let my guard down all around these losers
Been drunk of the Sake, Purple Haze and hookahs
Gone for a second so you better get used to
The illest nigga, keep codeine up in this juice cup
This beat banging so I'm right in my lane?
I'm from the same streets where broke niggas fight over change
It's obvious, (What?) Y'all show the Pharaohs respect
You see niggas getting handled than you're probably next
This is for my now y niggas, send a copy to Flex
But Philly been getting it in since they popping cassettes
It's a drama theme, MC's just don't get it
Till you pistol whip a nigga right out of existence
So hurry hurry you're the next contestant
Giving niggas the real me without the aggression
Gotta finesse it, the game loves when we spit
Like a pussy whip nigga when he cuffing his bitch (whoa)
Pussies better run
I'mma keep the story short cause the plot heavy
I'm Lee Malvo riding dirty in a box Chevy
Pop crown, pop Henny, pop clowns, pop steady
Calm deadly, palms sweaty, every time I count fetti
We're coming for blood, money power respect
Pharaoh's general so I devour rejects
Got these chickens turned out
Never been turnt up
I don't do things twice, mistakes gotta learn from
Air these niggas out, rappers are a danger
Feeling resurrected, bloody jumping out the manger
Zero tolerance, start fucking up these haters
If I don't see you now pussy I'mma see you later
AOTP we back nigga
Nigga I don't even like to rap (NO)
I like to snap grab the mic and wrap the cord around your neck
The shit will burn you like a lighting match
I meet a bitch and leave a bitch, really I don't need a bitch
It's cold outside, it's common sense to let your heaters spit
Ironically I'm rational cause all of my music is past classical
My classical music is not national
I'm somewhere out on Mars with it
Car tinted, arsenic
Burn you till you dark skinned, I'm hard headed but marketed
Retarded with this artist shit
You starting shit I'm past the finish line
My mind is on some other shit like a horror flick
Calling through to your fraud or groupie or broad with dookie
Coming out the mouth when I see 'em it's gon' be Call Of Duty
Keep staring, you gon' be blind soon
Bulletproof rap, I supply goons
This a bottle of [?] you gon' die soon, nigga
How many bodies have I passed through? Possibly five
Before we ascend to the one of the posthumous lives
After all the blood gone, the commodity dies
Why Vinnie ill? That's just geography, Pa
The ape man, the space man, the Carl Sagan
With the knowledge of an intellectualized pagan
I've got shooters from Richmond Island to Moore Haven
The perfection is the accomplishment of starvation
You can't be a general without having soldiers
That's the perfection of rhythm, it's a magnum opus
Talent doesn't mean anything if you lacking focus
That's why most of you motherfuckers is rather hopeless
