Priviledge (of Backwoodz Studioz and Green Streets Entertainment) - Skirmish lyrics

The Reavers (ft. Priviledge and billy woods) - “Skirmish” [Produced by DR. MONOKROME] [Verse 1: Priviledge] I'm sitting in my room, sipping a .22 Blowing trees like oxygen lost to them Get trapped in the atmosphere in here I'm used to the smell of the skunk Noticed the aroma and grabbed for my lungs Harnessed the emotion I was sent from above And it was how it is. As it were, I wasn't ready To watch history repeat again and again and I'm getting excited, like to incite riots when I'm hyped, so step to the side or then join In the anguish ‘cause life is pain And foes get vanquished in the streets where chains don't Hang from slave ships. Slaves hang in chains For weekly paychecks, then go insane For degrading pay, subjugating subjects Like serfs and lords, indentured servitude A war with words, slings, and arrows Shiites and Kurds intelligent among you My mind observed it's ambiguous, figureless Unquantifiable, completely unreliable In the realm of science, but I bet they get it If you package it right with a free gift and an Incentive to buy, insomniac, info- -mercial addicts, midnight hermits scared of The backyard skirmish [Verse 2: billy woods] Look, I ain't too proud So go ahead, bust me down off that loosie Bad part of town steaming like Jacuzzi Big, I was strapped, so I could peep a floozy coochie 'Round the time Nas dropped "Oochie,” kid Had his first while he's cleaning laces, seeing plates And summertime faces like we just cut the deck And drew all Aces. Girls had braces We never caught cases, weren't wild in police chases Now too many Newports. n***a, just go To court—three strikes. The gods hand me down Mics like, “Hold the fort.” f** shorts Give me mine like d**h and taxes. Paper fastest Facts is facetious, pa**ions spoke among evil's axis Allah's left hand swing like A hundred grand. After I left, your mom said “What a nice young man.” She don't know the half Two hundred and twenty-four grams—do the math Negro ga**ed, sipping Zyklon B out the 40 Pa** it to shorty. Bring ‘em young, show ‘em how to Tuck guns, cook jumbs, scrape crumbs. Cops come Play dumb, shuffle feet, hold tongues In 2004, there's been a father to your son