Art of War

Lyrics

[Intro: Proof] Tired of niggas rapping the same Talking the same, ya, hah (Living in the same place) What style is Proof gonna do this time? (What you gonna do Proof huh?) Y'all really wanna know, huh? (Do some of that laid-back shit) What is he gonna do? (Fuck with Dirty Dozen) You got niggas who said- "Wait- I'm- I'm out, I'm out the door this year" (I'm out the door) Fuck, all them niggas Fuck *Einstein*, nigga said me and Bizarre hate each other Fuck you, fuck *Lo-Key* Fuck that nigga talkin' 'bout "he battled me and beat me" Fuck you And when I see you on the streets, I'm in your grill, real shit Ya know what I'm saying? Listen [Verse 1: Proof] By the age of Aquarius my mind state was gregarious Various opponents whose stature was hilarious, like you Throwing fairy dust and frowning hard on whack chorus Proof was on the scene before Nat Morris Cold as a black forest in these starving streets A garbage heap that was brought stars could eat The nerve of haters, this is furs and gators So I spit venom at you through your [serve in Vegas?] (Listen) The primitive fool again, none can match that Blasting at your rib cage making your spine hatchback You lack fat tactics, your thoughts are Dexatrim Whippin' my dick out on nuns if they say sex is sin Next to Slim, I'm Shady as a Texas win Dirty Dozen solo are respected men Your local crap irritate me like infected skin Your future ain't lookin' the same like a neglected twin Some test the scary, that's unnecessary To kill your crew, family, your friends, one tech can carry Knock your paws off sync, left you flat like a soft drink Got more styles than Diana Ross swing Zone like Rick James when he smoke crack You and Charli Baltimore got something in common, y'all both whack Proof the king P-I-N If I ain't the best this year that motherfucker be my twin (Twin) [Verse 2: Bizarre] Who's the bitch-ass nigga that's mentioning my name? No one to blame I just cock back and aim None of y'all bitch-ass niggas wanna test Cause five minutes or less I'll be at your assets You're just a bitch and I wanna test you And the niggas you was with, they already left you So duck down cause Bizarre Kid comin' here Shootin' at you and your peers and cousins that you ain't seen in years Hope you believe in God 'cause nigga you better pray Pull your kids from the window and duck from this AK (Duck down!) And already done called the Proof and Denaun And even if I want to I can't change my nigga's minds Cause you on the shit list, these bullets is relentless And ain't no way in hell that you avoidin' this Ain't no apologies, yo I see your number on my caller ID Bitch, stop callin' me (Stop calling me) Fuck the truce, nigga I pull the deuce deuce And my niggas go wild like a bunch of rotts that got loose I'm comin' for you nigga, so hide behind your door Cause all my niggas believe in the Art Of War [Chorus x4: Bizarre, Proof & Bugz] What you startin' for, is your heart for war? Trife assassins bringing you the Art of War [Verse 3: Kuniva] Straight wildin', burying bodies right on top of each other So when somebody ask I just say you under the weather (Killer Eel) No matter what the problem, revolvers can solve 'em Keep a nigga breathless, the tech whips regardless Heartless, walking you punks right to the edge of darkness The way beyond that: When I pull me out a cartridge I bank shots, wettin' up your white tank top While my nigga Bugz is stickin' up your nearest gang spot (Give it up!) Just another scarred liar retired, we make niggas pass out like fliers Flossin' my teeth with barbed wire Leavin' a bloody mess then harass kids And buy 'em a candy bar so they can tell me where you live [Verse 4: Mr. Porter] Highly dangerous, spraining my wrist Lickin' off this black tech with my eyes closed bitch Look up the Art of War in the ghetto dictionary And see Bizarre holding your kids hostage for their Crunch Berries My pump stay hot, cold stomachs like Maalox Run away spots, setting it off with the guns that Dre got Ghetto séance but ass backwards Fuck bringing you back to life, nigga we putting you in your caskets Running off with the mouth like you got somethin' But in my mind I'm thinking blast soon as I spot somethin' And when you fall I know damn well I done shot somethin' And I'm cleaning your brains off my windshield for frontin' D12 is your local weed sellers Throwing pipe bombs in your church to kill your elders The men on bitches like tracks you notice these Banging clits and ovaries 'til they dry, for sheez Niggas'll die from these blows we inflict You supposed to be in some shit 'cause you the underdog bitch [Chorus x4: Bizarre, Proof & Bugz] What you startin' for, is your heart for war? Trife assassins bringing you the Art of War [Verse 5: Bugz & Proof] Bugz'll murder you in less than a word or two Bring the Art Of War to your door call me Sun Tzu Nigga don't be mad 'cause your broad is a trick Always dialing 976-Need-A-Dick (Bitch) Niggas like you I'm known to smack, stab, and spit on Kick at, hit on, you hear me bitch? It's still on Calling through my crib like you're 'bout it with your shouts Ain't you the same nigga who was crying on his couch Apologize on site boy If you like your life boy (Yo Bugz, leave that nigga alone you know he just a white boy) Fuck that, I'll smack him off the wheels and take his bleel Or go to Royal Oak and destroy him with my steal You pussy ass, how you figure it will linger Take your bitch on Jenny Jones then beat your ass on Jerry Springer (Slut!) Don't fuck with it or get your head split and mouth bruised That's a promise fuck *Houseshoes* [Chorus x3: Bizarre, Proof & Bugz] What you startin' for, is your heart for war? Trife assassins bringing you the Art of War