Artist: Vakill Album: Armor of God Song: Armor of God Typed by: jostmatt at bluewin dot ch Let me talk to 'em Let me talk to 'em Talkin to you [ VERSE 1 ] I'm from the era where we murk the bearer of bad news like Leonidas And family don't speak till tragedy reunite us Scout to see who tightest and slay hordes Who want test V-A sword? I wanna meet the 'Fockers', no Gaylord A angelic presence, the delegates' blessin It's hell against heaven My flow is God's relic in essence Why in the fuck is you replicas testin? With a delicate pressin I can blow you to maggot delicatessen They restless till I'm soul-clapped with no mercy Till they witness the crown get hold captive and murk me No industry flow active can hurt me The upper echelon's about effective as Proactiv to herpes Instruct spit to keep niggas with chalk employed The god's fully armored, the prodigy talk is void What part 'beast' you don't understand? I write the sickest shit to hit white sheets since cross-burnin Caucasoids [ CHORUS ] (V) A Verse for all the fallen that left me (A) May the Armor of God protect me (Kill) everything that's movin expect me If you offended then I'm talkin to you directly (Watch out) --> KRS-One (Come correctly when testin this) --> Lil ' Fame (I done had it here) --> Royce da 5'9" (Baddest dude) --> Royce da 5'9" (Yeah) --> Royce da 5'9" (You already know) --> Beanie Sigel [ VERSE 2 ] I'm sick as an abortion activist/germ biochemist Strapped by yo clinic Clappin clients with a grill that's cryogenic The ice that my tear ducts cry authentic Enough to hypothermia what I breathe upon Even freeze a pond The game'll never be fixed Cause every new nigga heavily bricks And exploited like '70s flicks Machine and beast cleverly mixed So fuck around and get carried by six Like the Nuggets in '76 I'm a G, fucker, a sick migraine Cross-contaminated with strychnine strains And click - nine's aimed Split a soul three ways in a auction You Celebrity Fit thugs weighin your luck and weighin your options Subsequently no slugs can dent me Spit freeze, whatever rubs against me, I creep like a stealth winter Frost-bitin shit till your health splinters This is I-fill in the blank-Lord and Master, bitch, I'm Self-centered [ CHORUS ] [ VERSE 3 ] Niggas want me to rehash beef with Twista till the target's destroyed Run up on him in '106 & Park' with the toy Fuck all that, that's a marketing ploy In fact, I'm proud of what the nigga accomplished, bark at ya boy Envy breeds from not stackin right, not packin pipe Insecure non-tough, tough-actin tinactin types You clients of panda-pussy pimpin The source of your extinction in existence is right here in black and white Till I'm emancipated I birth terror that stands Al-Qaeda Switch up, give a fuck if fans okayed it All I got is my balls and my word If the streets hold me to my word We already know where your hands located Your fears confirmin my thesis The time fabrics in permanent creases Pressin the luck you weigh When bucks spray you lay Uckfay ouyay Want some positive shit? Motherfucker play Lupe [ CHORUS ] (VA) (Yeah) (Yeah) (I'm not the one) (Motherfucker, you fuckin with) (The hardest) (Oh) (Motherfucker, so be careful who you fuckin with) (Motherf...) (Oh) (Oh) (Oh) (Oh) (Oh) (Oh)