[Intro: GP x King Caexar]
GP:
Ayo, ayo
This that sh** that make you wanna grab a motherf**er by his neck and hold him against the wall and say
"where the f** your money at n***a?"
This that sh** that make you wanna
Punch an old lady in the face
This that sh** that make you wanna kick a f**ing kitten
n***a, yeah i said kick a f**ing kitten n***a...
King Caexar:
Cla**ic sh**....uh it's that cla**ic sh**
Yo Kouga Clan and sh**...
Check it out...uh
[Verse 1: King Caexar]
Fact is you couldn't catch a flow on river rapids
Capsized without a boat row, and no life jackets leave an adversary punk'd like Kutcher prank targets
Like a butcher in the market place wrapping is a habit
Practice on the Sabbath, master the art of stabbing n***as sharper than desert cactus, actors can catch the hatchet
Caexar burn a hard body quicker than lactic acid
So the way I see it, spitting heat is only pragmatic (Uh)
So keep a musket, bullets i got an octet
Limbs are torn separate, like a**orted bar magnets
Invading radio ahead of my time
Like a n***a forgot to wind the dial back
On the Casio clock design
[Hook: GP]
It's that cynical sh**, lyrical grit lure with beautiful spit
Darker than the trench of ocean basin pit
Stronger than the stench of liquid from the cup that Satan sip (Oh!)
[Verse 2: King Caexar]
And n***as try please harlots
With quartz karats carved by Duddy Kravitz
Betty bops consume crystal rock like crack addicts
n***as empty bank vaults to feed they bad habits
Men rarely succeed to achieve American dreams
And happiness they never have it
Sit and glean over obscene bunny rabbit magazine
Deluxe keep it golden Gringotts and purely candid
Serving n***as like teen match-ups with ascots
Swinging tennis rackets dealing out bars
And trap menace with hammered mallets
Plenty conflict when n***as discover empty wallets
Bury the hatchet so, never sweep beneath the carpets
Ethics forgotten so souls are rotten
Like carca** sitting inside the coffin
Devoured by the maggots, empowered by the ma**es
Flow stretch longer than b**hes up in yoga cla**es
Soda wine gla**es, sorta like mola**es
Chance doors open like fat a** when gas pa**es
[Hook: GP]
It's that cynical sh**, lyrical grit lure with beautiful spit
Darker than the trench of ocean basin pit
Stronger than the stench of liquid from the cup that Satan sip (Oh!)
[Verse 3: King Caexar]
By now a n***a expects to catch the Tempest
On the hook like fish that collects in ba** basket, cuz i be putting that n***a on everything like frank sauce packet
Like the mechanic with the tool box
He's dealing with the ratchet
Working hard until my heart stops so
Tonight i just might sleep in casket
Like that orphan without an a**et son, he's probably a ba*tard
Rum in cabinet, get n***as to elaborate
On the gossip stuck up in they palate
Call em Brasco they prolly parrot, fake, rocking masks like Zorro swinging rapier from a f**ing chariot
Flows i push like empty carts by hobos on the salvage
Call me Geronimo son, I fight to stay a savage
Your weak is my advantage, anarchy and carnage
Bodies dropped like fetuses up in a miscarriage
One with the holy place, on tracks he rapes
Like dude that lace drinks, offering b**hes a taste
[Hook: GP]
It's that cynical sh**, lyrical grit lure with beautiful spit
Darker than the trench of ocean basin pit
Stronger than the stench of liquid from the cup that Satan sip (Oh!)
[Outro: GP]
That's what i like...that's...that's...what the f** happened to the f**ing beat man?
I was really bumping that sh** man...f** man