The Strike - Dope D.O.D.

I’m gonna get it in, shit gonna be craving

Shit gonna get crate, extra pills nigga, extra pills

Word up, that fucking real

Extra pills, extra pills motherfucker!

(Time to show these motherfuckers once

And for all)

Ay yo Reaper, get 'em!

Ay yo, of course I’m the big fat boss in this

Fuck Rick Ross

I got the force of a rhinoceros

I’m cautious with awesomeness

Niggas start horsing it

Mother Fuck, I’ma drag you to corcuses

Our power like the parliament, power to the people

To the cowards, to the heart of men

Arm and a leg is what it takes to be a part of this

Arsenic arsenist

I’ma 'bout to start some shit like Martin Laurence did

So, we waiting by your door step, in a Corvette

I got a big buck knife and a sore head

And I’m fuckin' pissed

Cutting niggas up, a limp and leave with a lisp, now we off the list

Dump dadda, body dumped in Nevada

Bloody blue calla crimes, niggas say halla

State of Nirvana, only fuck with the enlightened ones

We the Titan Sons, what you fear that’s what I’ll become

Most definite I’m sicker than the lepresis

Well equipped, devils kid, exorcist, sell a bitch

Open up the gate and step foot into my hellish pit

Do it Reveren

Just for the hell of it!

So, your girlfriends pregnant?

Get ready for abortion

Kicked her in the tummy, now she’s gonna say we lost 'em

You think its tragic, but I say it’s awesome

You can count on D.O.D and me to get the job done

Your the lost one never to be found again

Oh, your parents think now will this ever end

The answers no, cuz I’m only here to torment

Now your sons dead, text message, I press send

Guess what, into hell I will descend

Just to meet up with my friends so, we are evil in the end

Even lethal with a pen, I be slaying many men

And every now and then I make sure there’s a dead end

Any rapper out there who dare to compare

Well I kick some stairs

Will get (striked, motherfucker!)

Any half ass nigga with a plan to get

Bigga Dope, D.O.D did it, cuz we (strike motherfucker!)

We the punks getting drunk, getting high off the skunk

While we jump to the funk, cuz we (strike motherfucker!)

Now we don’t follow, no hype motherfuckers

That’s cuz we strike motherfuckers

You disappear with no trace in the cold days

In a storm rave with a blanket of snow flakes

Sleep tight, there’s a whole life after death, ahead of you

When I strike you go back to bed

I reminisce on what my dad once said

If words don’t affect them, smash their heads

That’s why I keep a crowbar inside the shed

And makes sure I ain’t caught when my hands turn red

Sometimes it just feels like we’re the last ones left

That ain’t fucking swag boy, you fags, yeah you heard me

I took over rap and I ain’t half way thirty

Swallowing the scene, like a half dead kirby

Gangsta or nerdy, there is no equivalent

We struck the game with a force that is militant

I ain’t fly but I spit fire

I might fly in a spit fire, blast at you dick writers

Choke you out with a thick wire, oh yeah

Its time for the blow torch and pliers again

Hit 'em with a strike till the black out

Then bail with the dough and return to the crack house