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  • 作词 : Royal Fam
    (feat. La the Darkman)
    [Intro: Timbo King]
    Y'all ****** shittin on my sidewalk
    Curb ya dog
    You could pay a penalty for that
    [Timbo King]
    Yo, sharp swords and rusty knives against dusty nines
    You stink ****** with musky vibes
    Battle cry, warrior stance, the black Pearl Harbor
    Smell of revenge, worms in the air
    Spit like grandpa from down South
    Three-sixty roundhouse, I'm throwin planets and stars
    All I need is two pieces of fish and five loaves of bread
    Watch me feed five thousand, power the Hill
    Out of the ville, zip code unlisted
    Murder last night, the homocide, missed it
    Blood For Blood, gang turf
    The way of the samurai sword, we bang first
    Each your food, test your flesh, lock doors
    Top dogs with paws obey God's laws
    Claim your set, light reflects off water
    My Fam outta state sellin quarters
    Convicts with court orders
    Shoot the gift out the barrel
    Multiple gunshot wounds or poison arrows
    Moon saw beats pharoah, bloody apparell
    The streets look safe, but they narrow
    Modern day Jes' James, rock trains, close range
    Watches and chains, ear rings, everything
    Corporate thugs move on business campaigns
    Blaze, ignite the flame, I carry the torch
    Walk through The Valley of Death and get scorched
    [Chorus: Mighty Jarrett]
    Wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa BLUH!
    Wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa BLUH!
    Two shot lick out, a man get shot
    Straight from the cannon, ass wouldn't know less
    Just because of that, the whole block get hot
    Police helicopter, a snipe 'pon de roof top
    Wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa BLUH!
    Wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa BLUH!
    Two minute later, Babylon catch spark
    In the staircase with a rasclat glock
    Never know, said them wouldn't come round back
    Know him look like, said him youths can't talk
    Wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa BLUH!
    Wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa BLUH!
    [police sirens]
    [machine gun fire]
    [La the Darkman]
    Darkman, came do my thing, the Bee sting
    Assassinate your whole team with the forty red beam
    My sword gleam, sharpen my script as an arrow
    Professional, La, my style, double barrell
    I self-Lord, master, natural disaster
    Holy slang to splash ya, dark force to thrash ya
    Blind eyes, puligiments, got four wives
    Inside my square, rappers get buried alive
    We never even, put you in the dirt still breathin
    Perfection, gold mic touch, dunn, I'm blessin
    Flames lick the flesh, shot at some of the best
    When delf play me at my rest, stab the kid in his chest
    Now I got respect, runnin through boroughs, hoods and towns
    ****** pull they pants down when I show the four pound
    Verbally fantastic, cock my rhyme, blast it
    Trapa Ghandi, classic, gun talk, gymnastics
    Rude boy, shoot, seek and destroy
    My gold tech blast rappers from here to Quebec
    Yo, La's born, Brooklyn raised
    You ****** get more than grazed when I blaze my guage
    It's not an arcade, dunn, my gun is real as AIDS
    I'm Holyfield, rappers is Tyson these days
    Darkman, Wu-Tang Clan, La the Darkman
    Wu-Tang Clan, the Killah
    [Chorus]
    [police sirens]
    [machine gun fire]
  • 作词 : Royal Fam
    (feat. La the Darkman)
    [Intro: Timbo King]
    Y'all ****** shittin on my sidewalk
    Curb ya dog
    You could pay a penalty for that
    [Timbo King]
    Yo, sharp swords and rusty knives against dusty nines
    You stink ****** with musky vibes
    Battle cry, warrior stance, the black Pearl Harbor
    Smell of revenge, worms in the air
    Spit like grandpa from down South
    Three-sixty roundhouse, I'm throwin planets and stars
    All I need is two pieces of fish and five loaves of bread
    Watch me feed five thousand, power the Hill
    Out of the ville, zip code unlisted
    Murder last night, the homocide, missed it
    Blood For Blood, gang turf
    The way of the samurai sword, we bang first
    Each your food, test your flesh, lock doors
    Top dogs with paws obey God's laws
    Claim your set, light reflects off water
    My Fam outta state sellin quarters
    Convicts with court orders
    Shoot the gift out the barrel
    Multiple gunshot wounds or poison arrows
    Moon saw beats pharoah, bloody apparell
    The streets look safe, but they narrow
    Modern day Jes' James, rock trains, close range
    Watches and chains, ear rings, everything
    Corporate thugs move on business campaigns
    Blaze, ignite the flame, I carry the torch
    Walk through The Valley of Death and get scorched
    [Chorus: Mighty Jarrett]
    Wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa BLUH!
    Wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa BLUH!
    Two shot lick out, a man get shot
    Straight from the cannon, ass wouldn't know less
    Just because of that, the whole block get hot
    Police helicopter, a snipe 'pon de roof top
    Wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa BLUH!
    Wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa BLUH!
    Two minute later, Babylon catch spark
    In the staircase with a rasclat glock
    Never know, said them wouldn't come round back
    Know him look like, said him youths can't talk
    Wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa BLUH!
    Wa wa wa wa wa wa wa wa BLUH!
    [police sirens]
    [machine gun fire]
    [La the Darkman]
    Darkman, came do my thing, the Bee sting
    Assassinate your whole team with the forty red beam
    My sword gleam, sharpen my script as an arrow
    Professional, La, my style, double barrell
    I self-Lord, master, natural disaster
    Holy slang to splash ya, dark force to thrash ya
    Blind eyes, puligiments, got four wives
    Inside my square, rappers get buried alive
    We never even, put you in the dirt still breathin
    Perfection, gold mic touch, dunn, I'm blessin
    Flames lick the flesh, shot at some of the best
    When delf play me at my rest, stab the kid in his chest
    Now I got respect, runnin through boroughs, hoods and towns
    ****** pull they pants down when I show the four pound
    Verbally fantastic, cock my rhyme, blast it
    Trapa Ghandi, classic, gun talk, gymnastics
    Rude boy, shoot, seek and destroy
    My gold tech blast rappers from here to Quebec
    Yo, La's born, Brooklyn raised
    You ****** get more than grazed when I blaze my guage
    It's not an arcade, dunn, my gun is real as AIDS
    I'm Holyfield, rappers is Tyson these days
    Darkman, Wu-Tang Clan, La the Darkman
    Wu-Tang Clan, the Killah
    [Chorus]
    [police sirens]
    [machine gun fire]