lirik lagu army of the pharaohs - fed to the lions
[intro: vinnie paz]
yeah, this spartan music man, this sparta!
i’m a f-ckin’ spartan man!
listen, yeah
[verse 1: vinnie paz]
boxcutter pazzy alias lucifer’s friend
yahweh ben yahweh, loosen the pen
i’ve shooted before, i’m not against shooting again
i’m through with you buls, you not ever movin’ again
y’all are bus riders, hoppin’ the deuce-to-the-ten
vinnie a carnivore, y’all is arugula femme
mecca medina followed by jerusalem then
i’m a gorilla from the biblical zoo with the pen
kool g, moe dee, i’m a fusion of them
the physical manifestation of music from them
pill bottles, grey goose and hallucinogens
the mc decapitated, no uses for them
[verse 2: reef the lost cauze]
’round the clock shots i bang all year
raise your guns and salute, ’cause the gang’s all here (what up?)
n-ggas had minor setbacks, but that’s all clear
it’s the army of the pharaohs, the sum of all fears
ah yeah, i’m so focused, i’m d-mn near laser-like
sharp as a razor, you small fries like tater bites
mcnugget mcs, popcorn chickens
the nine has arisen and i’m not gon’ miss
i’m not gon’ listen to anything rational
i’m hardheaded and indifferent
so i’m all in your kitchen, lookin’ through the silverware
the gaze of a k!ller’s stare, gorilla’s back with silver hairs
keep the metal grungy like silverchair
drinkin’ so much vodka that i’m ’bout to have a liver scare
low life like the sk!llionaire
and i bet it be a f-ckin’ riot whenever my n-ggas there
[verse 3: apathy]
my code name is cocaine, i’m propane with no flame
i make green like david banner or a fake gold chain
i’m cobain with no brain, it’s no pain, it’s no gain
i’m conan, i’m chopin, the dope man, i’m profane
i’m xanax, i’m prozac, i’m rap when it was pro-black
i’m so crack, i go back to parties playin’ soul clap
the old head jamaicans with machine guns on mopeds
the “ooh, you in trouble. when dad gets home, you’re so dead”
i’m more timbs than pro keds, i’m rakim, i know the ledge
i know the feds photo lenses follow me, it’s code red
if hoes claim it’s “code red” it’s all good, it’s all head
you want a problem? no sweat! i’ll body you, i’m boba fett
[verse 4: esoteric]
yo, the raps are murderous and lethal
flow, never ending like fast and furious sequels
oh, now you’s a gangsta, what that soundin’ like?
my speed’s the batmobile, your speed’s a mountain bike
yeah, i write an album in a day
it takes you a week to come up with one clever thing to say
too busy hashtaggin’, too busy humble braggin’
too busy sayin’ that you workin’ when you feet-draggin’ (you ain’t workin’)
uh, we in barcelona, you in bars alone… uh, plus your car’s a loaner
i’m back into focus, you jabronis splashin’ on cologne and hopeless
you don’t know what women like, you know aromas
your team’s a carcinoma, my team’s the army soldiers
we all contribute to the game, i’m just the largest donor
the spit is sick dog, yeah, i bark at owners
the man of steel, superman without the clark persona
[verse 5: celph t-tled]
let’s take a trip inside the mind of a mobster
let’s see a rare kind of monster (uurh)
iron i’m palmin’, i am brian de palma (aww)
if bush hired osama then fire the llama (pow)
light the ganja scoma and spit shine my armor (yeah)
want weed? see the rastaman
wanna get k!lled? come see the “put your noodles in your pasta” man (and that’s me)
backyard got snow in the summer, i mean i got ski slopes
i am in beast mode, silly putty my c-4 (uh-huh)
no dot com’s or dot nets, when i rock different links
so stop and kiss the pinky ring (the boss)
act tough and i might laugh, i’m a giant
sit up out my chair and block your motherf-ckin’ flight path
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