Mock Up on Mu

Lyrics

[Intro: Sample] Spare us the shame of being killed by a boy! Kings must be killed by kings! Hahahahahahahaha! A fine king you'd make! A king who can't even kill his enemy! And has to ask others, to do it for him! Even on a battlefield! Hahahahahahahahahahaha! Hahaha! (Crowds cheer) [Chorus: Method Man Sample] No n-no competition to the shit we got here (Yeah) The real shit, terror to ya ear, kill the fear Got the Glock, got the Glock, got-got the Glock To your headpiece, what! No n-no noo-competition to the shit we got here (Yeah) The real shit, terror to ya ear, kill the fear Kill the fear, kill the fear Got the Glock to your headpiece, what, what, what What [Verse 1: Vinnie Paz] I got the blick of the wild gunman Sit the fuck down, it was never about nothin' Jack Parsons espionage of a loud dungeon Little Nut Miller was talkin' about pumpin' Being a sinner became painful It's clear revelations that came as a strange angel My brother is my brother, we came from the same cradle These ain't mink, partner, these made from a gray sable I ain't the motherfucker you should box with We can take it to the guns, homie, this a chopstick Put the muhfucka in your mouth like it's a swab stick Bring the Boxcutter in the muhfuckin' cockpit Playin' Tito Rojas till the day break I can never be a dollar short or a day late The SIG Sauer P320 is my namesake The bullet has so much kinetic energy the wave break [Chorus: Method Man Sample] No competition to the shit we got here (Yeah) The real shit, terror to your ear, kill the fear Got the Glock, got the Glock to your headpiece, what, what No competition to the shit we got here (Yeah) The real shit, terror to your ear, kill the fear Got the Glock, got the Glock to your headpiece, what, what [Verse 2: Vinnie Paz] This the reckoning here This is napalm, that's the smell of death in the air You want bombaclaat war then the weapons appear I'm the CD don, Squeaky Fromme, mescaline heir The Sunnah of the Prophet, that's the actual fact You think talkin' the one time is a natural act You see talkin' the one time, that's a vaginal act I went to Pet Sematary, now the animal back We burnin' sage, we the Northern Arapaho My heart black, homie, and it's colder than gazpachos The hail of bullets comin', better get yourself a poncho Bandana low on my eyes like I'm a Chicano I don't look at homie as a rival, he a custy He stink like patchouli, his entirety is dusty We put a fatwah on his head like he Rushdie Me and you is like puttin' a shark against a guppy [Chorus: Method Man Sample] No competition to the shit we got here (Yeah) The real shit, terror to your ear, kill the fear Got the Glock to your headpiece, what, what No competition to the shit we got here (Yeah) The real shit, terror to your ear, kill the fear Got the Glock to your headpiece, what, what