Hok 2 Remix

Lyrics

[Intro: News Reporter] Here outside the courtroom, we see that tensions haven't really eased that much in the Breez Evahflowin' against Hip Hop trial. We hear he's brought in three star witnesses: Swave Sevah, Big Zoo, and Immortal Technique. As for what may develop today, no one knows. But we hear that the prosecutor is trying to bring the case to a close. Let's see what's going on inside [Verse 1: Breez Evahflowin'] Yo, yo, when I be stressed, get irie blessed Become a ten-headed dragon with fiery breath Strip the flesh off your wiry chest And play the game to the death 'til the high recess And even sober, it's over my man and You ain't killing no one like Cobra's cannons No understanding of divine divinity The ministry, the rhyme refined for the trinity Of Zoo, Sevah, and Immortal Technique So advanced, live on the borders of next week Talking 'bout you doubt I'ma win on this next piece? Don't come/cum out your mouth like the chin on my ex freak Rick slam a flow so sick in your headpiece Get fans to sell little sisters to get seats Black Static, this ain't even his best beat Wait 'til this shit become a full time job Leave y'all rap niggas broke, talking 'bout "times hard" Blind and scarred from collides with my squad Bloody like foot of Bruce in Die Hard Real life for your eyes, you're finding, "My God Why hast thou forsaken?" I've been no short, taking since Biz made "Making Music with Your Mouth." Love is a house I kick y'all out. Get the fuck out This hip hop, nigga [Verse 2: Swave Sevah] You want to battle? How you want it? Freestyle or written? I wouldn't lose to you if you wrote the verse I was spitting Play your position or get hurt 'til it blur your vision Kid, you'll get knocked in your head so much you'll lose focus Like, "Yo, you look dizzy. (Yo, you alright?). Let me help you a little (Ayyo, you, you alright?). Aim for the Swave in the middle" (I'm right here) But even if you do listen You got no aim—point blank range and you still missing My flows put a hole so big in your chest You'll think it was caused by the projectile of a jet My style is a threat. Smoke, pop bottles, get wet The more polluted I am, the more violent I get Weapon of choice? Any kind of writing utensil Work wonders with the ink of a pen or the lead of a pencil Memorize what I wrote, then spit it (Spit it) Put emphasis on my action words so you don't forget it Leave your ignant ass soaking in it. We're here to subtract Wack off the face of the map and you going with it I'm so committed. That's why I'm always out to brawl (What?) And be slurring vulgarities out my mouth at y'all (Fuck y'all!) Sure to burn like a lantern about to fall Like rats with razors attracted to alcohol What you wanna do now? This shit could get crucial I'm persistent with new style and resistance is futile My advice to you now is: try to elude feuding And take everything I say as serious as school shootings (Columbine!) If not, you'll end up a statistic. Another target That was marked for death I just scratched off my hit list [Verse 3: Big Zoo] Yo, I write night lights for cats to stay awake to Brutal barbarian, black bear, break you Four-hundred-and-fifty-degree style—bake you I can only lead you to the water. I can't make you Drink from the fountain of truth. You start spouting The truth. Your fake friends start doubting the proof I bring Stout in the booth when I feel dark I got a bulletproof spirit and a steel heart I got a cranium that's reinforced with titanium Working to control these ill thoughts That I fine tune whenever I write a fly tune On point like gunshots, blast at high noon Many moons ago when Zoo learned to flow And first burned the show, the name grew. You know I stayed with it, denounced the foul critics I left cynics, all emcees who need gimmicks They ride didicks. Emcees are sound mimics The black bear acidic with the lyric. Now On and on 'til the break of the dawn of a new day Emcees, we're headed this way [Verse 4: Immortal Technique] Niggas think they smooth now but they need to be told To never endeavor to ever go platinum or gold Couldn't get any respect no matter how much you sold The type to lose the battle and start acting five years old Or play the role with gang images, trying to be trife Your album's never coming out like niggas that's doing life You try to leave the cyph', but Technique take you to trial Exhibit A is the psychological profile of your style You pretend you had it harder than the people in your clique Always talking 'bout your guns and the bitches you stick But you was locked up in prison with a faggot sucking your dick And cheating on your baby mom with anything you could hit Claiming you got a record deal but can't rap for shit You perpetual hypocrite. You failed to get the message like Niggas that's illiterate. You're too drunk to talk Look at the nonsense you spit. You sound ignorant like Five Percenters Talking my ear off with a mouth full of Smirnoff Stumbling, falling over. Bragging about expensive clothes And your Range Rover. Motherfucker, come back and talk To me when you're sober. You stay coked up like the first Version of Coca Cola. But on every day out of the solar year I'm the controller. And your life is going nowhere Like a broken roller coaster. You don't own a gat. Your people use you Like a gun holster. So put the mic down and cut the beatbox, nigga Take off the fake Rolex and the Reeboks, nigga The only biscuit you got is in a KFC box, nigga The rigorous job of proving these niggas fictitious Was handed down to Technique and Breez. We get vicious I expose alleged hard rock niggas that turn snitches And emcees that play themselves like cheap talking bitches Talk about nonexistent riches because the label makes you The same fucking label that monetarily rapes you But I came to liberate you with socialist revolution. I'm Khmer Rouging But you're weak, acting out in confusion. You're losing So fuck having a truce with you 'cause I don't care about the things That you used to do, the airport that you supposedly boosted through Or the pathetic hardcore drug abuse you do. Yo, I'm not an alcoholic But I'm used to brew. But I wouldn't even drink a fucking deuce with you We don't want to produce you. I'd rather watch you splatter I'm the infinite dark matter that puts stars in their place I'll run with a DROP Squad of niggas saving my race Stomp your backstabbing, coward ass into disgrace [Interlude 1: News Reporter] (Yeah!). As you can see, the court room's exploding with excitement back here. (Come on, baby). I-I-I think they've made their case. (Whoo! Yeah, hip hop!) [Outro: All] Hok 2 spit (x3) Y'all ain't shit