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Aiyo, it`s the Concentration Camp
The Arsenal, the return Merciless You emcees got alot to worry about Y`all salute Yo, it`s the raw ferocious The body hard-metal soloist A poisionous comb with a strike to the throat to kill opponents It`s still hopeless, I`m still arming verbal explosives I`m still the coldest, I`m still the sickest, the diagnosis I promised y`all before Moses The promise I gave emcees still ain`t no different from what a bible oath is A promise with a right hand, y`all fools can testify Define the illest emcee, the machine can detect a lies I specialize in street rhymes and telling war tales The forecast when I brainstorm raps is all hell I dare somebody to brag, I`ll leave them hostage gagged The modest`ll stab fast as a hand through a speed bag `Cause I`m a battle cat, like in Iraq with a battle rap Comin` out of a red flat with a gat and anthrax I`m like 212 degrees celsius hotter Beef or more live, the shiverless is getting slottered Give me 5 mics [Chorus (scratching)] recognize...the illest...emcee...no doubt...coming through with the roughness recognize...the illest...emcee...better beleive that They say me and mics are like Jesus Christ and a bible scrolls And me and mics is like Faith and Joe when they hatin` foes My name exposed in 96 in a demo battles After the Rap Essentials, the critics became the battle I wrote the first of military verse in double barrels The first to spit Kadafi, and the first to use the nazis The first to talk about desciples and the Vietnamese Or hang draft in trees and invade with M-16`s Sharper than guillotines to switch blades my spit plauges Invades like Y2K`s and sprays with verbal bullets Including gernades, with no pins, my tounge pulled it Bleed in fatigues, my flow`s mud and sea weed You eatin` me is like David in a fight with Golaith Me eatin you is like the stones in the sling before he fired `em Still the nicest, take any mic alive and leave it lifeless You soon read about me in the Unsigned Hype shit Give me 5 mics [Chorus] It`s through the birth of skills, reincarnated, born again Cutting the imbellicale cord, the ill emcee`s born with a pen You fucked your article, rappers done wanna criticise I`m different than Nas, the only thing be saying we both wise But otherwise I`m raw, the lord of metaphores Strong as a pitbull`s jaws, can chill with 48 bars The hardest soloist, never speaks with hard poses It`s animated with fake hugs in the showbiz I`m being hated and underrated, but still I made it Got sick of this shit till everything I spit`s contaminated You know the albums of emcees that barely spit themselves Pay enough ill emcees just to make they shit sell I spit napom, tick-ass raps evacuate I`m a 4 second left time bomb, rap detonate So fuck y`all if signing me`s not negoitable Just one of my metaphores deserve the hip-hop quotable Give me five mics [Chorus]
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