The Real - Illy, Mantra, Grey Ghost

Yeah, Who gonna equal this, none of them count

The sum’s the whole of their parts so no point interrupting 'em now

They just divide themselves by themselves, staying boxed under the ground

Square roots, no fucking around, we nail it

They tools man, they wanna compare cuticles

The last one’s standing out, like the chair’s musical

Peace and games now, but ain’t a distant scene to see

The blast cavities indicative the history between us

It’s been war, and all’s fair in it

Beware of the truth, can’t raise troops off of fairy bread

At this range, our caliber won’t put a hole in your head

They’ll blow your head clean off your neck, bomb squad stomp in

Lock step, Illy Al, Grey Ghost, Mantrizzle

Trigga Trials in the building, supplying death till demand filled

It’s a minefield, blow up appeal

Their LP’s landfill soon as we sign seal and deliver the real, uh

«Hydro Bazooka shit» «Hit em where it hurts»

«Blow them motherfucking back—back out»

«We keeps it real inside the battlefield-battlefield

Battle-battle-battlefield»

«This ain’t rap-rapping»

«This is warfare""Bitch»

«Nobody move ‘til I say-say so»

«Time's up over-over, blaow!»

I traded in an AK47 for a pile of 45S

So my weapon is the music in the war tonight

Call this gorilla warfare cos I’m about to go ape shit

Grey Ghost/Jeremedy double agent

Door to door killer, semi-automatic villain

Spit it at a million miles a minute 'til I’m finished

Send a prayer to mother earth cos we tortured to girl

Write lyrics as a way of declaring war on the world

Words of mass destruction (WMDS)

Instructions only seen by a couple of MC’s

Playing cops and robbers, I would always play cadet

A plank of wood with a stick taped to it as a bayonet

A rapscallion’s adorned in medallions

Don’t ever wanna fuck with me and my battalion

Strictly lyrical kid, criminal mind

Scribble over your lyric page to cross enemy lines

«Hydro Bazooka shit» «Hit em where it hurts»

«Blow them motherfucking back—back out»

«We keeps it real inside the battlefield-battlefield

Battle-battle-battlefield»

«This ain’t rap-rapping»

«This is warfare""Bitch»

«Nobody move ‘til I say-say so»

«Time's up over-over, blaow!»

Who could even assume that another living human

Could possibly do what I’m doing, let alone prove it

I move in and out of reality, truly unique anatomy

This unity on a track is nuclear fusion

A volatile, highly flammable, collusion of chemicals

Caught on a collision course with whoever try stepping to

Arms dealer got my crew standing sentinel

Checking the bomb is armed and to the letter exceptional

No expectations, we merely make examples

Rap to break records, occasionally clear samples

Tamper with the fabric of classic rap shit

Put a tear right through it and stare right through it

As far as I’m concerned, it’s there for my amusement

So when I tear mics, dude, it’s meat at my truest

Soothsaying superhuman sharp shooter, who’s playing?

I’m aiming at you, setting 'em ablaze in the booth

«Hydro Bazooka shit» «Hit em where it hurts»

«Blow them motherfucking back—back out»

«We keeps it real inside the battlefield-battlefield

Battle-battle-battlefield»

«This ain’t rap-rapping»

«This is warfare""Bitch»

«Nobody move ‘til I say-say so»

«Time's up over-over, blaow!»