Testi War Machine - Army of the Pharaohs, Vinnie Paz, Celph Titled

War Machine

Mutilate massacre mummies that’s coming to maim you\nSit upon horseback with the skull of an angel\nI have never seen God but I’m suddenly able\nI was struggling with life, now I’m luckily stable\nIt’s like a long cold knife that’s stuck in the navel\nY’all are snake oil salesmen living the fable\nIf you ain’t never been to Hell then I’m willing to take you\nDeath isn’t initial but I’m willing and able\nI will take your fucking food while I’m still at your table\nThe hunger pains is stunning mayne, feeling is fatal\nI ain’t never gonna leave cause Philly is faithful\nTully Blanchard, Ole Anderson still in the stable\nFrom the land of lost dreams and broken pavements\nKids get killed right where Edgar Allan Poe wrote The Raven\nOur great granddaddy was sold for a few shekels\nSo niggas will kill for eyeing some new J’s and few pretzels\nThey might short a life for water ice, depending on what’s sorta night\nThey having a stabbing in his jacket where he stored the knife\nGet your beard faded\nAOTP we’re faded vodka and Henny and then we’re blazing\nThe weed I smoke make you make weird faces\nMore fucking grass than where there was a deer grazing\nSubhan Allah, yeah the hammer drawn\nYears from now they’ll tell the tale about the animal Cauze\nGone\nKill yourself, there’s no way you can feel yourself\nWe make it easy for you, this may help\nSo if you think that you can fix yourself, slit your wrists yourself\nWe make it easy for you, this may help\nYou in karate class, I’m cocking shottys back\nFuck a stash box, I just keep mines on my lap\nRing my doorbell, and you’re knocking on death’s door\nI told you I said war probably what you got on the vest for\nThe shooters on standby whoever said it’s gangstas in\nYour crew is a damn liar\nLook, all I do in this rapping is gun speech\nLyrics I spit so hard, I chip my front teeth\nAnd every Five Seven is a no-joker shoot a snowman\nIn your front yard, you’d think I had a snow blower\nHyped for the kill\nI run 'round amp’d and after I fire them shots I’m doing a touchdown dance\nYo, the flyest spitting the murderous science fiction\nI talk to these rappers like they’re my personal Brian Griffin\nYou’re lost in a raps addiction, you cannot deny you’re listening\nIf you’re fucking with the Pharaohs, you can wind up missing\nNaimsaying? Reminiscing on the past, as we drown in laughter\nOne leaks a meltdown disasters\nFukushima radioactive, holdin' cats captive\nSpit raps with the force of a bull mastiff\nWho wanna test the Eso, hoping that he get respected?\nWho really wanna step and get their neck disconnected?\nAkita snap the leash, rough and ragged beast\nOn my grind like jagged teeth, Mr. Fantastic reach\nThese Pot Holes In My Lawn is wild drawn\nGot Me, Myself and I from now on\nHating less can only make a love child spawn\nNow I walk, with this cross I bear to die on\nAin’t into holding grudges, let bygones be bygones\nYou’s an earthworm, I’m a Burmese python\nWe ain’t in the same lane, what the fuck is you high on?\nLittle alley cat ain’t built to eat with a lion\nCrash through the fences, I ain’t reaching for no pylon\nTeam is light work, trying to fuck with an icon\nSatanic spirits got you sleeping with your lights on\nDo yourself a favor, take this .45 to cry on\nShooby-doo-wop pop my switchblade\nYou ever seen a dead body overturned bitch maid\nYour bitch made me a little sandwich when I managed\nTo leave her pantless and when she called my phone I spoke Spanish like:\n«No hablo inglés», sprayed it all on her face\nThen ask her how them baby molecules taste\nI make her booty wobble in place and bobble the bass\nI’m a god up in space, got a lot of squads to erase\nAnd every verse I kick, it’s like the worse I get\nI’m sick, tell Smurfette to smurf my dick\nMy clique, only wise men, kings of the North Star\nThe knucklehead hooligans, that fucked up ya sports bar