Ten Wheel Drive

Lyrics

[INTRO] Psycho Realm Sick Symphonies What up! Hehehaha Hehehe Hahaha [Chorus: CYNIC] Man, these fools ain't gorillas (Who are they?) They just monkeys that talk (That's right) A bunch of liers with no heart Yo, we line 'em up like cannons but don't none of 'em spark I can tell they all faggots by the way that they walk (By the way that they walk, that's right) You're like a piece of canvas that ain't got no art (Nah) It's plain to see the fantasies I'm ripping apart They ain't flipping keys, they ain't killing nobody They ain't really catching cases Ain't none of 'em popping up [CYNIC] Yeah, yeah, yeah I got a fist full of iron I pop a bitch in the eye Admire my sick mind inside design your demise (Uh) These little guys, no matter the size, try () my ocassion Receive 5 shots in their ribcages I spit native so my tongue it flips like it's asian It's a script, actors, hardbody goverment agents These record labels set up, for federal agencies They sign you for all the information You go on tell the D's They have these puppets acting like they really are moving D Maneuver heat in the rap hood They act like they run the streets They have more security that Snoop D-O Double O-G In a bulletproof cruiser smoking up all his weed I'm rolling with young G's, pushing a hundred keys I'm lying but I spit fire then I'll go make a beat A team but just one could defeat your whole fleet Famous for exposing the weaks that charge for higher beams [Chorus] [SICK JACKEN] We are in a terror state Earthquake but the tremor is great The future's grim so I bury my safe I got this art form called rap They say that I'm great But the ones cashing out are the feminine and fake Oh, wait, I dont wanna sound like I hate on the heavyweigths But it's a burn like drinking Vodka and Henny straight The dopest rappers ain't cake, some got raped They so broke they don't know the sound that a penny makes I'm getting mine, homie Hustle all the time, homie I'm on the grind Only call me if you got money for me Being independent since I dropped War Story And still pull bigger crowds in L.A. than the top Audi Cops and feds, they monitor my bread But mom and pop's shops got more honor than the dead I got no paper work Got numbers in my head You can keep the plaques and the tax I'm underground instead, yeah! [ILL BILL] This is ILL BILL, homie Let me tell you something: Where I'm from the value of life is next to nothing Brooklyn, motherfucker, plus the West Coast is open on me I'm world-wide with the LC familia army It bother y'all that I rep my family Terror in every barrio, every hood Every borough, every block that's hot Street corners resemble the Night of the Living Dead Junkie track mark, hookers is giving head to the young and restless youth We blast 'till there is no one left to shoot Morally bankrupt and destitute I ain't a prisoner Shank the windpipe of the warden Your days are limited I stab the spin, psych in your Jordans Fling you up Top of the tier but planted in crisis Bring you more rock than you clearly had in your life It's, crack music My mix-down is heroin symphonic You are an addict, I'm a savage, so intelligent and brolic It's outrageous to the world at large How I have 4 Aces at the table when I turn back cards Leave your faces in amazement 'cause I work that smart Never been a lucky person, yo, I earned that spot My position is that of a ruler of a kingdom To raise the underground a hundred thousand feet above the fools Who think it's not over for music with that soul and substance Laughing while they took all your money and showed you nothing [Chorus]