Dope DOD - Strike (Instrumental) | Текст песни

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• Dope DOD
• Strike (Instrumental)

[Intro]
Nigga let's go nigga! Lets get it in, (swag)
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!

[Verse 1, Jay Reaper]
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!

[Verse 2, Dopey Rotten]
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

[Verse 3, Jay Reaper]
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

[Verse 4, Skits Vicious]
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

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