Текст песни Battle Cry (Celph Titled) с переводом

I put you up on the IV, not the Roman Numeral 4

But the IV that leads to the funeral floor

Wax gets melted; breaks bones, fractures pelvics

Speeds through space and cracks glass Astronaut helmets

Face it, motherfucker I could pay to get rid of you!

I’ve got more heads in the hood than Pagan rituals

A new tyrannical force for you to fear

Known to kill and keep human ears as souvenirs

A shapeshifter, face slitter, paper getter, tape your sister

Wake your sister, make your sister, take it in the face

And if you’re facin' us, block off a thirty-block radius

I throw more blows than boxin' Doctor Octavius

Ever since we made some noise I learned people love a winner

We the quality of deep dish rims, y’all the hub spinners

Tough sinners, break bread with Jesus at dinner

Protected by a heavenly force, fuck a minister!

Niggas know better, no one’s letter is better than mine

Every time I rhyme, it’s metal; the terror level is high

Plus I… testify, it’s best you die

Then to find the truth deep down in a mountain of lies

Downsize, I’m oustin' you guys deep in the dirt

Clockin' in and out of rap, have y’all fiendin' for work

When I’m breedin', yo it’s treason what the semen is worth

Non-believin', make me steamin', make you meetin' the earth

Ayo, it’s my world… and I won’t stop

And if you stand in my way you bound to get popped

In the land where you lay and fade from stray shots

I demand that you pay and stray from strange blocks

I’m the man that you pray don’t spray the flames hot

I could tan in the blaze for days and stain cops

I astound and amaze, y’all praise the same god

I’mma pound out your brain and scrape the graveyard

Have you shout out in pain, y’all say y’all Bravehearts?

I’mma box up your frame and play the same card

And I’m out for fame, spacebars, and quasars

Pharaohs locked the game, no shame, we hate y’all

Yeah! Raw muthafuckin' rap!

Hardcore shit! '94 shit!

Shoot the fuckin' place up, yeah!

A-O-T-P, blast through your army fatigues

Damage your team, the competition done it with ease

Gun in my sleeve 'cause nowadays homicide is my steez

Collectin' my cream, I’m livin' your dream and peepin' your scheme

Put you on lean from right hooks, pausin' your jux

You fake crooks need to hit them books

Learn the rules of the game, two to your brain, three to your frame

Incredible pain, you gettin' drenched in that «November Rain»

We the opposite of that wack shit, trash man, the clack rapid

You die tragic, five-six professional assassins

Rockin' these mics and reppin' my fam' with passion

Remember its Q-Dement', you bastards!

Tell your man and your parents, we be demandin' ten grand an appearance

At the minimum, my venom damage your lyrics

We be like Manny Ramirez, compatible with the radical

Magical and emphatical, I’mma battle 'til I shatter your clavicle

Call me admiral, raisin' the temp of the room

I’m the emperor, remember I’ll never surrender

I dismember platoons, your petty men are buffoons

We send 'em to their doom the second my venom enters their wounds

I mentally bloom, exhume tombs with dope lyrics

2Pac's alive and well, Big L «The Devil’s Son»

Rise from hell with dope lyrics

Live in regret, A-O-T-P these shook rappers hit the deck

Courtesy of the streets, make it a microphone Middle East

My speciality, only rhymer envelopin' my lyric sheets

Knock turbans off of sheikhs, use a pipe bomb

Downtown Israeli boutiques, full of dead tourists

With they dreams no longer in arms' reach, that’s what I call

Dealin' with calm speech, when I alarm your peeps

Inscribed in a peasant’s palm is a blessed psalm

If you draw and your weapons wrong, there ain’t no steppin' on

My forty-five is my weapon, my culture’s a holster

Where seven-inch slugs is kept in, squarely I step in

Tiltin' my clips and blue Stetson, God is my essence

So you could check these rhymes for reference, adept to any preference, pussy!

Yeah, baby!

Kings of the motherfuckin' underground!

Y’all motherfuckers don’t want it with us!

This that raw shit! Throwback shit!

I make Evel Knievel music, I come through stuntin'

Every verse is the same, just flipped a little somethin'-somethin'

Baby, I’m crazy, a crazy baby, a sick infant

Born with an intent to spit slick sentences with sick penmanship

Shoot at your Chicago fitted and knock your socks off

Aimed at your door but hit your head, shot your locks off

I heard you was afraid to say my name on your record

'Cause you’s afraid I’d put your motherfuckin' frame on a stretcher

I can’t change laws son, that’s a government issue

But I’ll break laws with a gun that’s a government issue

It’s the Army, we got power in numbers

And that’s nines, forty-fives, three-five-sevens, and M500s

Some people say I’m superior when I shit it

Vivid visionary spit, vocabulary ridiculous

I am a tyrant, I’m Violent by Design

I silence the scientific with every line of the rhyme

Mozart of street rap, breakin' the barriers

Space Harrier, filled with forties and pit terriers

Ready to mangle, anybody cross a line

I saw the sign then ran with the Army, lost in time

Ready for war, but won’t rock no dick trees

I rock mic’s, you think it’s a hundred and sixty degrees

Who stomp crews, batter and bruise cliques

Kill bitches and stab you tricks… with loose lips (yeah!)

I’m slightly disturbed, Pazienza is nice with the words

That’s the reason that I’m fly like the life of a bird

I don’t care if you dead, let God have ya

'Cause I’mma stay rugged and raw like Marv Hagler

That’s something you don’t know about you small rapper

Nice with the left, nice with the right, the jaw tapper

Allah backer, murder every track that I’m on

You just spit a fuckin' verse wack, then you gone

Fuck fame, I studied the fame closely

They build you up, then you get rocked like Shane Mosley

It’s pain homie… and your blood in my pen

It’s Army of the Pharaohs and we flooded with gems, yeah!

The Torture motherfuckin' Papers!

Dead Sea Scrolls out here!

Y’all don’t want it!

It’s fuckin' raw rap!