Lyrics Army of the Pharaohs

Army of the Pharaohs

Silence & I

Yo I mastered the flow

I know death more than Lazarus know

And me defeated isn't frequent like Nazareth snow

Hold ya urn into the air so ya ashes can blow

Put my burner in the air so the pacifist know

That I ain't scared to start a revolution

Another fixed election another injustice I'm a execute 'em

Land of the free, home of the bravest

Who you think the victim who you think the fuckin' slave is

People on the grind working for minimum wages

Working nine to nine and seein' the minimum paper

Not to mention the inadequacies of welfare

And the lack of a proper universal health care

They don't know about the common man

They care about distracting you and hope that Israel'll bomb Iran

I got a bomb in hand, and it's for George Walker

Meet ya maker motherfucka meet ya lost father

"It's gangsta how we rock, while you watch

Attracted to our style this is how we get down... "

"Big jewelry and big guns

We get busy it get grizzly"

This is concrete rap Q-Dimension pavin' the way

It's a sacred day waiting for my patience to pay

I'm a horse that grazin' the haters sayin' all that

I'm the evil that's born when someone good passes away

I'm both good and foul things

The love and hate an unwanted child brings

Right left life death the stress of the trial brings

The best of the wild kings that's us

This is smoked out rap get high angel dust

Roll with niggaz that be payin the dues

Playas that don't give a fuck if they lose

Live they whole life drainin' booze

Doc already told me is it rap or smoke

Is it bars of death for life or a whole in my throat

Hardheaded, livin' my life regrettin' shit

That next shit Syzemology the new testament

Do this for my niggaz call me the fan

Yo I do this for them haters sayin' my songs don't bang

If this industry's a movie I'm the starring actor

You're an assistant for the intern for the back-up gaffer

But I'm only a rapper standing on two feet

Backstage with four whores on all fours

And that's on all tours

How more can I spit a punchline and an I'll statement

And keep your attention span on my records for entertainment

No explainin' it, you do the math I did the math teacher

Miss Anita spread wine under the gymnasium bleachers

Fucker, don't matter which homes speak

Cause we got pistols with barrels longer than Big Bird's beak

Plus the creamy white powder yeh we sellin' the milk D

My audio be to raw for children it's filthy

I never leave the crib without a pack of now and laters

I pack now and blap later

And ain't a player you can find rollin' down the strip with hundred rounds in clips

Packin' macks in the back of the Ac on some Big Pun shit

When you hear the click ya click run quick dick

Transportin' handguns in mini-vans that's the pistol whip

Celph Titled the gourmet chef ripple effect an

Inconspicuous spit will catch ya mens when I'm splittin ya neck.

[Hook]