Rise Of The Machines - Jedi Mind Tricks, Ras Kass

I was gonnna rip his heart out, I’m the best ever

I’m the most brutal and most vicious and most ruthless champion there’s ever

been

My style is impetuous, my defense is impregnable

And I’m just ferocious, I want your heart!

I wanna eat your children, praise be to Allah!

They call me Kublai Khan, ready for war with a Ruger 9

I’m ready with a machete for Rudy Giulian

I’m ready for anybody who want war

Y’all ain’t nice with the hands you can’t brawl

You can’t stall.

Behold the black horses

I’m runnin' up in ya church to smack crosses

You lack rawness, you lack passion

You couldn’t make it through war without rations

You just a homosexual;

I think the gay rights movement

Should meet you and invest in you

Rhymin' 'bout flowers 'n shit

And poets on the mic for twenty hours 'n shit

I’m housin' ya shit;

Shuttin' ya fuckin' mic off

Snatch ya fuckin' poetry book and then kick the dyke off

Set the fight off, show 'em what real rap is

Real rhymes, real beats and real clappers

And we blast until cover

Make you see murder like Master P brother

(Yea, what’s the deal baby, yea, free Ras Kass, feel me)

«C'mon, let 'em know it’s us when we come on»

«While real MC’s and DJ’s are a minority»

«Clapper, down goes another rapper»

«Make way, cause here I come»

Yea, yo, yo, yea, fuck it

When I spit it get shitty like the teeth of Mike Bibby

Live from nowhere keep the west coast with me like J-Kidd

Slay chicks if she pretty, only fugitive you know slay chicks to be Diddy

No system electricity, spine the mind witty

Tryna go 50/50 with my Billboard’s check

Like 800 first week, 800,000 the next

They put on the cover of the Vibe I just might flex

Na, I’m too lazy, with Hennessy and hoes

But I bench pressed the trigger of a four pound though

Hit enemies with rolls for money shows and clothes

Fuck bank rolls, I’m yellow gold with incredible flows

My homies hella cold, cause love don’t love nobody

Said he like the free spirits with slugs to plump your body

'Til you shrug and flop like Vlade Divac

Paint picture perfect, inside rockin' the b-bop

We not confused, rap’s the nigga news

Each rhyme a «Minority Report», fuck Tom Cruise

Adversity my muse, that’s why I make mus-ic

Transmit SARS, it’s 20 bars as you spit