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Artist: Joell Ortiz
Album:  Farewell Summer EP
Song:   Battle Cry
Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com 

"All you chumps are gonna bow, when I whoop him, all of ya!
 I know you got him, I know you got him picked.
 But the man's in trouble, I'ma show you, how good I am!"

[Joell Ortiz]
How many times I gotta tell y'all I'm second to none?
No magazine's Top 10 cause I'm negative one
So I don't pay attention to them dumb folk
Cause I'ma always be in first like the clutch broke
I'm from where the cutthroats cut coke
Cause school ain't cut it, they cut out to puff smoke
And guess what? That's who I hang with
So when you speak industry, I don't know the language
But play a beat and I'll show you why I'm head honcho
Y'all gettin away with murder like the white Bronco
Bunch of trash in between hooks
Bars too cute to be gettin all these mean looks
Put the hottest rappers all on one stage together
See who hold they arm up like Che Guevara
I rhyme hotter and I say it better
I'ma win a Cold War, I'm a product of the Reagan era
Stay thinkin 'til the page inkin
My 16's free y'all I'm hip-hop's Abe Lincoln
Fam, I don't know what they thinkin
These niggaz got me fucked up, like I spent all day drinkin
I'm a boss, not a loss yet
You lil' lemons in a race with a souped-up Corvette
I'm so hot, I could stand still and pour sweat
in the North Pole fully naked with my balls wet
I'm a monster, these other niggaz small pets
Claim they sick but they get cured by your dog's vet
I'm thorough from my Yank' to my Gore-Tex
You bluffin, I play poker, I'm callin all bets
Local boy, when's the last time you all left?
I don't even know where the FUCK I'm goin on tour next
Last month Canada, before that Europe
I have waffles out in Belgium, you ain't have syrup
Every time I write it's another flight
Another whore with my kids on her underbite
Another YAOWA chant when I touch the mic
Another magazine spread, yeah you fuckin right
I'm on my grind like a pair of inline skates
Get on tracks and go bananas like a primate
Baboon, gorilla, chimpanzee or wild ape
King Kong on the escape, I'm 'bout to sky-scrape
But the sky ain't the limit
I could teleport through my mind any minute
Take you to a place where the lions go ribbit
All the frogs roar and the fire is frigid
I'm outta this world, don't belong here
What good is heir'in the throne if I taught you from a small chair?
Family, you niggaz got it twisted
Flow out of the box, yours chicken and a biscuit
Give me chicken pox when I listen
I be itchin to cripple your career like a ligament is missin
Dawg I'm on a mission like an intimate position
When I swing it's knockouts, I ain't gettin a decision
From here on it's locked, y'all a prisoner of spittin
Can't escape my bars, no visitor's permitted
Welcome to hell where Joell holds a pitchfork
And you burn in eternal flames for your bitch-talk
Dick in my hand, I'm pissed off
But I ain't bucklin, every day I'm +Hustlin+, Rick Ross
One day the whole globe'll know I'm Clark Kent
Underneath the shades on a project park bench
Superman when I grip the mic
The only way I'm slowin down's if I blow a pound of kryptonite
From now on I'm a bully, I'ma pick the fight
Let them pick you up off the ground when I chip your bike
You'll become a lil' memory, gigabyte
Me and these beats got married, I'm Mr. Right
Lil' man, you spit aight
I'm on fire, you got a lil' buzz, Miller Lite
Man it's so many words runnin 'round my brain
If I don't put 'em on a track I would go insane
Maybe that's why e'rything I say is crazy
And e'ry day I wake up, with a naked lady
with a V.I.P. band on my right wrist
Pants on the floor, J.D. with a slight sip
left in the bottle, telly key on the nightstand
I go to the bathroom to pee and then I scram
I live the life of a rock star
They ain't wanna let me through so I became a cop car
Put the sirens on e'ry time I touch a pen
E'rybody move like dope, that's a fuckin ten
My peers know I'm gonna win
This music's like my first crush, for years I wanted in
I'm here, oh boy will you taste the wrath
I'ma make it ugly like what's underneath Jason's mask
I listen to a lot of mixtapes and laugh
All you niggaz do is whine like Jamaican ass
E'ry night I celebrate, we take a glass
of champagne to the brain, sometimes we take a bath!
Victory feels far better
than defeat, you niggaz weak, Solar's letter
I'm harder than The Fonz leather
My worst rhyme's thirty times rougher than your hardest bars ever
I could front like a car fender
Cause everything I'm on DJ's pull up, like the bartenders
New York, I'm the answer to your prayers
Head nod music, leave the dancin over there
Project shit, ain't no mansion over here
Just murder on the strings, Charles Manson on the snare
I'm hungry, the game's like a food court
I just gave y'all a loose hundred, Newports

Geah! Joell Ortiz
Who feel they
Who feel they better?
Hehe...