Iyana Dean - Soldier lyrics

[Royce Da 5'9"] Fresh off the jet from just f**in with Puff I'm feelin like the best, nobody - bring it back Fresh off the jet from just f**in with Puff I'm feelin like the best, nobody f**in with us We done turned to a bygone don crew We got the semi Kimora like Djimon Hounsou A lifetime criminal, live by a code we call shush Fireman ladder flow, look at it, my bar is up As you can see I'm a beast on the track I'm even worse, I'm the hearse with the reef on the back I'm like the gun at the race, son you only get one shot My album is the finish line, here's where your run stops 'bout to go fishin with a clip that's extended Because your momma got a gla** eye with a fish in it [Hook: Iyana Dean] I-I think my, n***as is soldiers I-I think my, b**hes is gangstas I-I think my, n***as is soldiers I-I think my, I-I think (HUT!) [Royce Da 5'9"] I get money, I get b**hes, I get bored or - bring it back I get b**hes, I get money, no specific order Filthy hit recorder, wipe or Ricky mixed with Ricky Porter Butchie Jones mixed with Mr. Combs with the Tookie aura I'm a muh'f**er, no really I f** mothers I chug bottles and pa** out on they La-Z-Boy She try to leave them lil' niglets with me? sh** I treat 'em all like I'm Snoop Dogg in "Baby Boy" Leave me alone, I'm Hanco*k Liquor sto' close I'm swoopin 'round hittin the second-hand spot I don't f** with no ho unless she a dancer There's no position, drug or liquor she can't try I'm Cancer, me versus them is a landslide If your face is fly, and your body is decent This your inauguration the same time your impeachment I got a lotta anger, I was hot before your first sh** Not your album, but before your momma potty trained ya [Hook] [Kid Vishis] Where my soldiers attack, it's a wrap, hold up When my soldiers attack, it's a wrap One clap'll lay you unconscious, bullets alpha-mega slap co*k grenade here, think we scared? No way Set your a** up like the cops did O.J Fo' spray his body make his chest explode The barrel on the shotty wide as KRS's nose, partner Buck-shot ya, rap like a automatic gun Lungs stoppin means you can't breathe proper Yeah, they like I'm on some other sh** Whole clique hold heat like a oven mitt To f** with this you want me on wax So I'mma tax you lil' local rappers worse than the government ba*tard, the closest you n***as been To a shotgun is in the car front seat pa**enger How 'bout you take a trip in the trunk? Ride to the pastor for a casket to hold ya, it's over! [Hook]