Sword slice the air
Altair with the f*cking flare
King of the deadman clan with a bloody stare
Folk lore claim I killed, was I really there
All they saw was the fate in the blades glare
Gave a one way trip didn't pay a fare
Ripping through the peace at night, in they dreams I tear
Sacrificing niggas like they lambs we don't play fair
And I'm coming for you head like I take hair
Beware
Assassins with the blades and black gear
Trade em off for the macs and the black steel
On the side they flipping packs of the white girl
So much blood in the air it'll make you hurl
Advancement building traction, drug lead interactions
Guns starting to blast and swords fade to the past
They pull up without a mask and put two in yo back
You bitches would never last
Silent psychopath
Vile villains and pointless killings will lead you to the aftermath
In that world there would be no class
Division, and kids would b drug dealing, blood spilling
Even stacking dead bodies to the ceiling
Got that sinking feeling in yo belly nigga
Massacres everyday on the tele nigga
Bodies cut like minced meat in the deli nigga
Beat em down till their brain turn to jelly nigga
Aye Tyler bring the beat back
Imagine if the swords from the past found their way back
Lil micro uzis failed to go clap, and the only thing you Read in the streets was a slate map
Would y'all take that
But f*ck it they won't get it
So we gonna split it
Pull up on a nigga while he in the kitchen
Maybe gut him like a chicken or a cod
Stench filled the air you would think that we were fishing wit no rod
It's oddly odd that the world would b corrupt from the inside
Scratch that
But patience
From waitlists
And no music to base this
Keeps me from my greatness
And I cannot take this
Versatile with my flows, and my verses lack hoes, plus cliches bout clothes
Like rotten
In this medium
I rip holes
And changing the pace of the genre
I hold
Lucky number 79 I am gold
Shitting on all these rappers y'all sold
Leave them ripping out they pages trynna start over
My generation filled wit trash we need to start over
Maybe smash they brains wit a steel boulder
Run em over
Toss em in the flames of Krakatoa
No substance in the game makes me want to throw up
Waiting for the world to rise and shine
What's the hold up
Y'all keep letting all these carbon copies blow up
I'm only taking stabs at em these is cold cuts
Yeah these is cold cuts, these niggas ass
Yeah they cold cuts
Yeah they cold cuts
Romero - New Age Yakuza Lyrics
Romero - New Age Yakuza Lyrics
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If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Sword slice the air
Altair with the f*cking flare
King of the deadman clan with a bloody stare
Folk lore claim I killed, was I really there
All they saw was the fate in the blades glare
Gave a one way trip didn't pay a fare
Ripping through the peace at night, in they dreams I tear
Sacrificing niggas like they lambs we don't play fair
And I'm coming for you head like I take hair
Beware
Assassins with the blades and black gear
Trade em off for the macs and the black steel
On the side they flipping packs of the white girl
So much blood in the air it'll make you hurl
Advancement building traction, drug lead interactions
Guns starting to blast and swords fade to the past
They pull up without a mask and put two in yo back
You bitches would never last
Silent psychopath
Vile villains and pointless killings will lead you to the aftermath
In that world there would be no class
Division, and kids would b drug dealing, blood spilling
Even stacking dead bodies to the ceiling
Got that sinking feeling in yo belly nigga
Massacres everyday on the tele nigga
Bodies cut like minced meat in the deli nigga
Beat em down till their brain turn to jelly nigga
Aye Tyler bring the beat back
Imagine if the swords from the past found their way back
Lil micro uzis failed to go clap, and the only thing you Read in the streets was a slate map
Would y'all take that
But f*ck it they won't get it
So we gonna split it
Pull up on a nigga while he in the kitchen
Maybe gut him like a chicken or a cod
Stench filled the air you would think that we were fishing wit no rod
It's oddly odd that the world would b corrupt from the inside
Scratch that
But patience
From waitlists
And no music to base this
Keeps me from my greatness
And I cannot take this
Versatile with my flows, and my verses lack hoes, plus cliches bout clothes
Like rotten
In this medium
I rip holes
And changing the pace of the genre
I hold
Lucky number 79 I am gold
Shitting on all these rappers y'all sold
Leave them ripping out they pages trynna start over
My generation filled wit trash we need to start over
Maybe smash they brains wit a steel boulder
Run em over
Toss em in the flames of Krakatoa
No substance in the game makes me want to throw up
Waiting for the world to rise and shine
What's the hold up
Y'all keep letting all these carbon copies blow up
I'm only taking stabs at em these is cold cuts
Yeah these is cold cuts, these niggas ass
Yeah they cold cuts
Yeah they cold cuts
Altair with the f*cking flare
King of the deadman clan with a bloody stare
Folk lore claim I killed, was I really there
All they saw was the fate in the blades glare
Gave a one way trip didn't pay a fare
Ripping through the peace at night, in they dreams I tear
Sacrificing niggas like they lambs we don't play fair
And I'm coming for you head like I take hair
Beware
Assassins with the blades and black gear
Trade em off for the macs and the black steel
On the side they flipping packs of the white girl
So much blood in the air it'll make you hurl
Advancement building traction, drug lead interactions
Guns starting to blast and swords fade to the past
They pull up without a mask and put two in yo back
You bitches would never last
Silent psychopath
Vile villains and pointless killings will lead you to the aftermath
In that world there would be no class
Division, and kids would b drug dealing, blood spilling
Even stacking dead bodies to the ceiling
Got that sinking feeling in yo belly nigga
Massacres everyday on the tele nigga
Bodies cut like minced meat in the deli nigga
Beat em down till their brain turn to jelly nigga
Aye Tyler bring the beat back
Imagine if the swords from the past found their way back
Lil micro uzis failed to go clap, and the only thing you Read in the streets was a slate map
Would y'all take that
But f*ck it they won't get it
So we gonna split it
Pull up on a nigga while he in the kitchen
Maybe gut him like a chicken or a cod
Stench filled the air you would think that we were fishing wit no rod
It's oddly odd that the world would b corrupt from the inside
Scratch that
But patience
From waitlists
And no music to base this
Keeps me from my greatness
And I cannot take this
Versatile with my flows, and my verses lack hoes, plus cliches bout clothes
Like rotten
In this medium
I rip holes
And changing the pace of the genre
I hold
Lucky number 79 I am gold
Shitting on all these rappers y'all sold
Leave them ripping out they pages trynna start over
My generation filled wit trash we need to start over
Maybe smash they brains wit a steel boulder
Run em over
Toss em in the flames of Krakatoa
No substance in the game makes me want to throw up
Waiting for the world to rise and shine
What's the hold up
Y'all keep letting all these carbon copies blow up
I'm only taking stabs at em these is cold cuts
Yeah these is cold cuts, these niggas ass
Yeah they cold cuts
Yeah they cold cuts
Writer: Rodney Roberts Jr
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid