Nine Thou

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Tak] Ayo, first things first It's time to shake ground in the eighth round Box battle and break down For the beak in the rhyme tone Jump in the cyclone S-T-Y-L-E-S, yes I know Give the rap fiend vaccine Packed red beam Put them up, what the fuck? You plucked a bad seed Off the wall, spitting the guerilla tag team What's up now, duck down stuff that can't breathe [Verse 2: Ryu] Yo, you know the routine, the demon effect Please, don't step, you wanna be one of my pet peeves? The more beef the better; sound gay But you all wanna sleep together, okay? In the club we don't sneak Berettas Why not? We got so much street credit, the fucking police let us Now that's bullshit, cause we don't pack heat So come and get your head cracked with a phat beat [Hook] Kick it, moving it's on now Making it punk loud Shaking the buck wild Raping the punk style Faking the funk pal Dunk watch the punk What now? Watch your battleship get sunk down Click (click) pow (pow) nine (nine) thou (thou) What? Just what I thought, what's up now? Click (click) pow (pow) nine (nine) thou (thou) Hu-hu, I'm like Hu-hu [Verse 3: Ryu] Hold it down, never give in Styles ever get limbs Or whether you want it to end Dirty syringe, I murder 'em again 97 serving them sins Uh 30 your friends get knocked out, turbulent wind Hopped out, what you want, big verb in the gin I'm a fish; you can tell by the hooks and the fins, c'mon [Verse 4: Takbir] Yo, I got a rock style Pivot the offspring and joke with 'em With a distorted gist off string Who am I? Rushing what leg? Who and Tak? Pushing your bed hotter than Quebec in July Area 51, stereo, rive gun live Here we go, S-O-B drop some For the kids in the hall with the new block tape Blast from both angles like boom dock saint So get up get up and let the sound hit ya Snap it's already your style picture [Hook] [Verse 4: Takbir] Who the hell wear splitting the belly up on a shellfish Shinning in your style playin' the fell blitz Drilling your brain, like rap and video games Feel the syringe for the styles that stick in your brain [Verse 5: Ryu] Yo- what kind of shit is he on Really is styles, really be on C'mon punk fuck off; You really got to be gone Ripped out of your brain Pissed covered in shit to diss this S-O-B game Son of a bitch I'mma start killing for kicks There ain't an air force 1 inn the globe I can't fit, get it? I'm sick with it, when I spit the venom And it drip's up in 'em And it get's the women in a Quick dilemma; We can settle it now And I don't know who did it but they said it was styles [Outro] Click pow nine thou What? Just what I thought, what's up now? (what's up now?) Hu I'm like Hu-hu- Hu- I'm like Hu-hu- Hu- Click pow nine thou I'm like hu