Artist: Styles P f/ Chris Rivers, Vinnie Paz Album: War Room {S} Song: War Room Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com [Styles P] Everybody turned up, me I'm just burned up Sour lit, piff lit, flyin through the district ... My swag's in the weed bag Live up in the hotel, hang out where the G's at Where the B's and the C's at? You fall back or you ease back But a real homie'll rise up Think of the 4-4 long, you got me sized up I'm too old for the dumb shh Cold for the numb shh, hand on the gun grip The top down with the blunt lit ... Flyin, thinkin of hundreds I'm in the juice game and the book game But I'm still rappin, got my mass and my cook game It's midnight but we 7-30 We legit, but forever dirty So even if I'm thin, G That old sweatsuit, got a pocket full of them Benji's I want a goose neck, and the Benz-y Still feel the pain from the cocaine frenzy '80s, '90s and 2-G's Know I was too G, listened to Kool G No gun or knife then I'm throwin the two-piece Cop me a new pair of kicks if my shoes crease Lines and holes just like a loose leaf Dope lines, bullet holes, homie is you sleep? Yeah, you better wake up then You ain't gettin it, get a job, cake up then If the nine don't work, throw the eight up then I'm a crooked dude, but I'ma tell you straight up then Yeah we both rap, but you know that the Ghost trap Back room from the back room with a dope track, yeah [Chris Rivers] I'm unchained, unblinded, unparallel minded As I refined to combine with the finest finds of a titan Vicious like lightning, Vikings enticed by full moons on islands Filled with the loot that eluded troops of a previous tyrant Devious rhymin, see me when writin, feastin with lions and preachin the science to help me sleep and reap the defiance No need for silence, my voice is heard through leagues of the darkness I'm preachin the marches, I be so deep I preach through a carcass and speak to the spirit, guaranteed deceased, read my lyrics Critique it and feel it, the best as since they dreamed of a phoenix In hopes of rebirth, I broke in the Earth when I spoke in reverse I wrote with compressed quota, put the diamond to dirt And grew a money tree in custody of Chris and dragon company My cutlery is comfortably the sharpest of the underlings And don't compare to no one, verbals like a shogun Hotter than the whole sun, bars are like a Volcan I split and form Voltron, an ocean's like a proton compared to my emotions, Chris Rivers got the potions that cures, I know the remedies, equity is never seen Type of guy you'll never meet and you'll sill have me in memories [Vinnie Paz] This guerrilla rap right here, life in a box Keep a razor under the tongue and slice with the ox You's a batti bwoi, you be in the cypher with cops And the Freedom Arm cool, but I'm nicer with Glocks Listen, I ain't gon' hold you, I'm liable to box And roll four-five-six with the dice on your blocks I'm a stealth bomb, move silent, sly as a fox And while you at it, maricón, say goodbye to your pops My hand speed move at 200 nautical knots The words' a gun, the rhyme is an audible shot A horrible plot, but this is just a hobby to him Like sippin Grey Goose, smokin Bob Marley with him You don't want war, you'll be countin bodies with him In his house, John Gotti was just godly to him Any East Coast paisan, probably kin Probably connected to South Philly robberies with him Your on-and-on cypher probably gin Lookin like you got the monster, remarkably thin The darker the sin, the darker that the sorcerer been That's the opposite of life, that's the start of your end Stupid! [Outro: Vinnie Paz] Hahahahahaha, Boxcutter Pazzy! Chris Rivers, Pinero the Ghost Killadelph, Valpensy to New York I'm not you rapper! I'm a G! Hahahahaha