Sword and Bullet (feat. Doap Nixon, Crypt the Warchild, Demoz & Vinnie Paz)

I can't let my guard down all around these losers
 Been drunk of the Sake, Purple Haze and hookahs
 Gone for a second so you better get used to
 The illest nigga, keep codeine up in this juice cup
 This beat banging so I'm right in my lane?
 I'm from the same streets where broke niggas fight over change
 It's obvious, (What?) Y'all show the Pharaohs respect
 You see niggas getting handled than you're probably next
 This is for my now y niggas, send a copy to Flex
 But Philly been getting it in since they popping cassettes
 It's a drama theme, MC's just don't get it
 Till you pistol whip a nigga right out of existence
 So hurry hurry you're the next contestant
 Giving niggas the real me without the aggression
 Gotta finesse it, the game loves when we spit
 Like a pussy whip nigga when he cuffing his bitch (whoa)
 Pussies better run
 I'mma keep the story short cause the plot heavy
 I'm Lee Malvo riding dirty in a box Chevy
 Pop crown, pop Henny, pop clowns, pop steady
 Calm deadly, palms sweaty, every time I count fetti
 We're coming for blood, money power respect
 Pharaoh's general so I devour rejects
 Got these chickens turned out
 Never been turnt up
 I don't do things twice, mistakes gotta learn from
 Air these niggas out, rappers are a danger
 Feeling resurrected, bloody jumping out the manger
 Zero tolerance, start fucking up these haters
 If I don't see you now pussy I'mma see you later
 AOTP we back nigga
 Nigga I don't even like to rap (NO)
 I like to snap grab the mic and wrap the cord around your neck
 The shit will burn you like a lighting match
 I meet a bitch and leave a bitch, really I don't need a bitch
 It's cold outside, it's common sense to let your heaters spit
 Ironically I'm rational cause all of my music is past classical
 My classical music is not national
 I'm somewhere out on Mars with it
 Car tinted, arsenic
 Burn you till you dark skinned, I'm hard headed but marketed
 Retarded with this artist shit
 You starting shit I'm past the finish line
 My mind is on some other shit like a horror flick
 Calling through to your fraud or groupie or broad with dookie
 Coming out the mouth when I see 'em it's gon' be Call Of Duty
 Keep staring, you gon' be blind soon
 Bulletproof rap, I supply goons
 This a bottle of [?] you gon' die soon, nigga
 How many bodies have I passed through? Possibly five
 Before we ascend to the one of the posthumous lives
 After all the blood gone, the commodity dies
 Why Vinnie ill? That's just geography, Pa
 The ape man, the space man, the Carl Sagan
 With the knowledge of an intellectualized pagan
 I've got shooters from Richmond Island to Moore Haven
 The perfection is the accomplishment of starvation
 You can't be a general without having soldiers
 That's the perfection of rhythm, it's a magnum opus
 Talent doesn't mean anything if you lacking focus
 That's why most of you motherfuckers is rather hopeless