Buddha Monk - Let the Games Begin lyrics

[Intro: Buddha Monk] 60 Second Assa**in, it's like we need firewater up in here Yo, yo, we bring the pain, n***as [Chorus: girl] It don't matter, if you bring a friend F.Y.S. is gonna bring the pain Let the games begin, let the pain begin Let the rain begin, let the storm begin [60 Second Assa**in] I bring the pain, along with a double deuce of ease you lane Flow through the brain, under and over 60 Sec. Assa**in slaughter Come get your parade rain over, smoke ya, rob ya, gat you over your shoulder Don't wanna feel the pain? Run, or face these brolic headed dum-dums co*k back, when the blast, from the Sun attack Buddha Monk track, U.K., double play, Zu F.Y.S., Free Your Souls, bring a friend, fool While we let these games begin [Courvoisier] Computer rap course, Buddha download my chip Mic check n***a bout to work, that's legit Burnt out, feel the contact, give me room Hate to sound rude, but I do what I do Shot the fair one with ya b**h on my back Chokeslam my grammar, sweet Futurama rap Last album strike, raging me off the margin, hardcore Harder than crack raps of raw, war joe can set it Hit you up, storm your base Lay you flat on your face, empty every single case Squeeze at a slow pace, I'm feeling the rush Clapped up and bagged up, now they tagging you up [Chorus w/ ad-libs] [Free Murda] Once this don approach ya, leave ya face off like John Travolta f**ing with Free and Cronz'll smoke ya Freeze, spit rounds, split frowns, split clowns Clip now, sh** clown, have you leaking like 2-liters, toke like two meters It's all murder with these two ninas Pimp hustler, the moc' out with two miras I love brain, ain't nothing like two Caeser's On some "Ah, I love you Freedom, can I hug you, Freedom" All these b**hes in the street, they love to meet him Haters ice grill and stop fronting, before I pop something Hope this acco' had to drop nothing L to the I L, Free Murda, take your burner Made you a believer, plus a learner Made you an earner, now fall to the ground, n***a, four-pound, n***a Shots from four blocks, four rounds n***a [Buddha Monk] It's the big hit, who spit, rhyme clips, my toxic fit Some sh** and leave ya a** in them liners Last n***a that tried to commit suicide from a first line Dead ya a**hole, hey bati boy, now go It's the flame thrower, sail with poets like Noah Architect from Zu, bet that'll leave ya a** wet Who wanna challenge excalibur, damage all competitors Take a Kodak moment, it won't last much better Now wait a minute, it's been a long time anticipated When I finish throwing darts, it'll leave ya brain plated Quote ya scriptures, n***as, can't an*lyze ya pictures To f** with this n***a, I only leave ya brain dimmer [Chorus 3X] [Outro: Buddha Monk] What, it's official, we nappy, dirty, scum to the earth All you n***as that don't know what it's worth Sit back, relax, or we gon' put you in a hearse What, what, what, what, n***as, what? U.K.!