Pam Pa Ra Ra
Any die, if the beholder the soldier begins to bore
Four score, seven bullets (Yeah hit the floor nigga!)
Take you outdoor, darkness frightens you even more
Im here to enlighten you, with the hardcore
Bring it raw, like the red, dead meat, in your plate
And Ill fill you up with the energy the Hill create
I gets sticky, like a green bag of the bomb diggy
Now Im fuckin with your head, and you realize that its tricky
Got you paranoid, feeling the void, you cant take it
The reward bein destroyed, freakazoid toy
With ya mind, all styles deployed, you find danger
in the strangers eye, the killin comes second nature
Your battle filled up the mind its fallin out, hear you callin out
for help, and all the fuckin yellin to is yourself
Crawlin and beggin for mercy means nothing when you bluffin
Im pushin the button and straight dumpin on fools frontin
Boo-yah!... come on, motherfucker
Pam Pa Ra Ra
WAR pigs, you dig, see kickin out Mr. Big
Take a sip of wine, engage in a battle of the mind (Checkmate motherfucker!)
You feelin the force, meant for remorse, right from the source
Your head is, gettin fucked and Im skippin the intercourse
Behold, the Mic Horse, youre takin a loss nigga
Got the Nina Ross, dont need no cross, my fuckin paper
chaser green bag gladiator, terminator weed germaniator
The greater the risk you fuckin hater
Hit you with the pyscho beta, clickin the fader slow
with the Hi-Lo, servin the blow, who got the glow
Dead men tale no tales, you fail to see the reason
Im easing to squeeze the trigger, go figure, its killin season
Nighty-night, mothafucka
Pam Pa Ra Ra
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