Shaolin Soldiers - King Just

That’s all we got, we gonna need

Choose, you ready

Yeah, let’s do this shit

Yeah, yeah, yo who be that?

Yo that’s the God?

Yeah, word up, niggas gotta learn to fuckin answer me dude

I want 'em all, fuck that

Shaolin, Shao!!!

What, what, my Gods is raced up The thought that I throw is like a blow to your gut

Word up, what the fuck, the God creates drama

Two-Six horror, terrorize the nigga mama

I smell marce in the air, yeah

Where, all my Gods standin right here

In the rear, tryin to sneak me from behind

Shaolin, rush 'em, nah nah he’s mines

Die Earth scum, die, die

It’s just like a needle goin straight to my eye

Oh why, does it have to be this way

I don’t know, but I flip the shit everyday

So come on, where you at, where you at Pass me my gat, I’ma kill a cat, if they ever fuck wit the rats

And that be the shit in my life

The God ain’t trife, yikes, yikes

Fool strikes, kung fu, killa comin through

Ooh, that be that nigga from the Zoo

But yet ya wanna ask me, how I slam a jam

It’s simple, all I do is gram on a gram in a cracker

Hit ya like a linebacker, I’mma gat ya When I get ya, I’mma blast ya Blaow, like Kool Moe Dee, how ya like me know

When my style is ill, raow raow

Shaolin Soldiers!

(Hey!)

Enough is enough, wit this corn ball stuff

About who can get rough and tough, or who can get snuffed

Please, if you came to battle, then rap

Cuz your name ain’t Scarface, and you don’t own no gat

You ain’t hurtin nothin, ain’t no future in frontin

You probably ain’t even sayin nuthin

Yo you’re bluffin, puttin like your styles is phat

But your rhymes are wack and you sound like you on plaque

New Jack, you’re a wanna be, down to be, soon to be Whatever you want, let it be And I’mma hit ya wit a safer rap

To make you shut ya trap, and get the God hand clap, smack

Hit across your lips wit some shit

That make ya wanna spit and do two back flips

Blue top, I clear through the air

You against me?

Well I don’t think that’s fair

You need more people to match my equal

And even if then, there won’t be no sequel

Yo, let’s get straight to the matter

How my thoughts get phatter and phatter and phatter

Ask Betty Crocker, yo it’s in the batter

And I’mma climb the charts and splatter

Why would you wanna write my shit like that?

Why must the God chase the cat?

Why would you even wanna front like that?

Smile in my face, and talk shit behind my back

Damn nigga, you must of wasted ya time

If you wanted to be rapper, I done wrote you a rhyme

Yo, you don’t get no props, for bitin my shit

You only get props, for bein on my dick

But when you hear this, don’t be mad

Just be glad, that I ain’t whip on ya monkey ass

You got a lotta balls bitin my style

Soon we gonna be on it like aow, aow

Put your shit on the court

Cuz this one here takes to take 'em, yo I’m brake

Lord forgiveness sake, for they do not know what they do When they bent the Zoo, I should of brought it to they whole crew

Badoop a doo, oh my God nigga, let’s be real

The eight commandment, says thou shall not steal

Help police, I’m being robbed

By some corns on the car, that need to get a fuckin real job

The Mob rocks more shit than boulders

I told ya, everybody can’t be a soldier