Lyrics Swollen Members

Swollen Members

Cross Fire

SMAS You already know:

You ain't gotta a right to be talking outside of your mouth

You ain't tight and shouldn't utter a word

Your arts absolutely absurd

I'm precise and you can't compare to me and shine dead right

Get ready to be turned you into food for fishes

And leave behind upset crying senior citizens

Crying on the shit again

Shotgun Charlemagne

The boss still open souled drink with a steady hand

It's all free

No need for membership

Premium businessmen believe me it's blacksmith

Talk smack and I'll castrate you with a battle axe

Swell up your membrane

Then kick a battle rap

You lost your voice and

Come down with battleaxe

That ain't real rap

You're broke back with your saddle axe

SAS klack-klack-klack

Bodies in a black bag

Thinking about the punk rock shit like Black Flag

Operation Ivy with the poison in the ink well

Punchline screw your face up like a steak smell

Plots so funky

Got your nose runny like blow junkie

Blacksmith people never go hungry

Rappers flow so crummy

I get the sisters and the snow bunnies buyin' up the tickets

Give us your money

Oh for sure money

It's the gentlemen

Charm rapping rotten pieces like an attack on Eminem

Star wars steady its a classic

Light up backward and then

Ash it before you pass it

You know how to hash get

On the side where the greener grass is

Gotta up on the shape glasses

Niggas get blasted

Handing out cash's

And caskets gotta bake bread like the basket

Bastards!

Rappers can't outlast the masters

Press it up and spin up the waxes

Put the needle on the plastic

Blacksmith

Roll another blunt for these actors

Cuz imma put fear in the factor

Clack ya

Agony!

Niggas gotta pay for the ecstasy

Especially when I cook it up with the cocaine

Battleaxe heavy

We stack Betty on rapid

So much coke on my track remind of Aspen

2 white bitches they alkaseltzer and aspirin

Rolls rolls outlastin'

KC niggas slash and mister murder every tray

Not a rap democrat

More like rapublican

Rap rap como sta?

Money keep comin in

Only time I had my back was who had love for em

You ain't no love for em

You ain't no love for em

I'm running up and dumpin' em

Poppin' em and truckin' em

Only gets em mad

I'm younger than Donald Trumpin' em

Getting em made

In a sense ridiculous and not really stoppin' em

Basically from LA

We take game like really

Do a show and grab some hoes and take em to tele

Young Tre nice I'm the youngest in charge

Nigga violate our squad you meeting the law

Check my battleaxe

Just like a Wu-Tang sword

I run the blade against your throat like you was Harrison Ford

You girl got'em, worldwide

I've been to Paris on tour

From the Eifel tower my rifle power make you contort

This is a contact sport

No coaches or referees

Im hotter than Cali's death valley bolders and bleach

My posse cut up I chop it up like I was a butcher and beef

Boondocks ain't my boombox

Beats like a priest