Word A' Mouth - Russian Rhoulette (Original) lyrics

[Intro: Sample from The Deer Hunter (1978) and Thirstin Howl III] [Sample from The Deer Hunter (1978)] Michael Cimino: We do three, huh? One, two, three. Three. Three [Thirstin Howl III (Overlapped with Sample from The Deer Hunter (1978) and Hook)] I ain't scared to play. Let me see that. What you thought? You're not playing this game right. Look. You gotta spin it. Spin it, just like that. Spin the barrel. I'ma try it! Spin the barrel! Watch, I ain't scared. Spin the barrel! Watch this, watch! (*Gunshot*) [Hook: Block McCloud and Mr. Metaphor] (x2) You get one shot, once chance to bust. Who bust first? First to get slain playing Russian roulette [Verse 1: Thirstin Howl III] Poured blood, ignored love Even swore trust to the little devil in all us The motor that keeps cheating wives, lawns cut At a boiling temperature before I'm even warmed up At the speed of thought, thug n***as fighting for a needless cause All you hear is, "John they're stealing!" When we in the stores, uncommon valor with the French Make players take the bench above the rim without touching the net Thirsty, greedy, sometimes desperate When I lock rap down, I'ma b**by trap the exit Barricade the entrance Turn demonic screaming into harmless careless whispers No challengers. Winning the belt If I say I'm top notch, I'll be just limiting myself Emcees bore me like elevator music Street panhandlers with resalvaged sewage All A&R's, [?] If life's a b**h, I'm one of her two kids A motherf**er if the shoe fits If rap was a school, I'd be teaching at Yale's institution Brooklyn Hard Rock with a toothpick Threatening your life and safety with new risk Sk**ionaire. After I burn emcees I give 'em information on free clinic care [Hook: Block McCloud and Mr. Metaphor] (x2) You get one shot, once chance to bust. Who bust first? First to get slain playing Russian roulette [Verse 2: Mr. Metaphor] My lyrics sprout like a Brussel, son. I get you open Like a clam or a mussel. I might jam my knuckle Breaking down walls like Brickface & Stucco Eat you like a thick steak, you f**o Whip you with my belt buckle. You want to scuffle? I'll pull your cards while you shuffle. I'll bag your b**h like a duffle And grill you like a waffle. You'll fall like -lafel I'll remove your tonsils. I'm housing kids like youth hostels Inhaling forest fires, blowing trees out my nostrils Digging underground and carving pipes out of fossils I'll wet you up like ponchos on a dark, stormy night And spark forty mics. I'll beat you up like forty dykes in Brooklyn You'll get taken, tooken, for every nook and cranny I'll stick your daughter and the nanny, take your baby's candy Grab the brandy out the cabinet, take any found inhabitant And make his mind inadequate. I spit my lyrics accurate Immaculate. It's hard to capture it You don't got half my wit. You better find an advocate To plead your rapture I'm leaving hands in the air. You leave in laughter Stuck in the intro. I'm on the final chapter [Hook: Block McCloud and Mr. Metaphor] (x2) You get one shot, once chance to bust. Who bust first? First to get slain playing Russian roulette [Verse 3: Pumpkinhead] I play roulette with five bullets in the revolver The problem solver, rhyme evolver, descendent of Ghana Using the marijuana to blaze n***as like lava Hot like sipping java in the sauna, I'm cold blooded like iguanas My rhyme takes form co*k back the hammer on the biscuit, I make storms The weather wizard who hopes to never visit Heaven's limits. My arms cross in b-boy positioning Mix hydro with nitroglycerin. Pose with the mic In a tie, hold lyrics hard like pistol-whipping I studied alchemy and mysticism But still quick to cut you like Crips in prison from a distant vision I'm about to pull the trigger, got to make a quick decision The sweat trickle clouded my wisdom. Lost my religion I guess that's the cost of living in this world with no girl No j**els or pearls. Unfurl my new script My thoughts are suicidal-sick. I pull the trigger. All I hear is a click My thoughts are sick. I pull the trigger. All I hear is was a... (*Gunshot*) [Verse 4: Block McCloud] Then I rise and shine from lies that blinded mind's eyes And ties that bind to find your rhymes are dime-sized Compared to mine. You got no concepts Eating from my table of contents, take words out of my context My language is, like Arabic, too complex Got you mixed like marriages. My songs flex From my la-ry-nx, plex you like a labyrinth I'll stab you with my dagger if you have a riff The Block hit toxic material that's hazardous You bring life like Christ to Nazareth, then Lazarus Fabulous how I react with presents to rap gifts In fact, it's radioactive flows that hold you captive Trapped in zones, home is where this rapper roams In catacombs, trapping poems that stay with you like chaperones Controller of the dark like Napolean Bonaparte To get stoned, I spark bones and burn poems like Joan of Arc [Hook: Block McCloud and Mr. Metaphor] (x4) You get one shot, once chance to bust. Who bust first? First to get slain playing Russian roulette