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Apollo, Vulcan & Mars
por
Vinnie Paz
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Letra
Yeah n***a Something about this sh*t, I can't figure it out (Mic check, 1,2,1,2) Something about this sh*t, I can't figure it out (Peace to the Gods) Something about this sh*t, I can't figure it out Something about your character, I can't figure out (The lucky teachers) 'f**k going on? (What's happening?) 'f**k my lighter at? Lighter Flickering Esketit Uh, I spit the lava, burn the village Professional bars are hurting feelings, word villain, every verse is brilliance I'm not from Earth, my boy, to share the same turf as pprivilege One bar turns to millions, Sixteen is worth a billion Buildings collapse, ceilings are cracked - thе final days It's Armageddon's arrival, May Allah let revival raisе us It's a cycle, not a phase Man, n***as dying every hour, either from accidents or a rifle stray Michael J. but twice as great, this FLAiR, homie Big FLAiR, they caught the flying dunk in mid-air sh*t, I disappear behind the smoke fumes to float with the goons Then heat waves composed, I wrote it in June Pour salt on the open wound, knowing victory's mine I see the love everywhere, even the enemy's eyes Went from b*t*hes dissing me, now I'm liked by Nicki Minaj Making history the God bodies, Vicky and Fah Argh Minor setback for a major comeback You don't respect that, you'd prolly be behind one lap You could expect that the baby .9 was compact You gon' regret that, my M.O. make the sun black VM-dubs riding with slugs They thought I'd try to sneak my Gat in the club, got em patting for drugs And I just came to show love, why you showing concern? Uh, I keep a .50 clip to sanitise for germs They burn your body, throw you in a urn Wanna be like the Gawds then you gotta wait your turn Check it, I'm laying laws like Mitt Romney A hundred on the dash, banging at visions of Ghandi A hundred on the dash, cops wanna pull me probably A hundred on the stash, trapping in this kamikaze I make it all bad, blazing beats is just a hobby Every rhyme I write is brolic, more brolic than Brodly Rhyme for rhyme, '88, [?] and Corollas Gucci robe, four finger rings big as boulders Frankincense and Myrrh, black copium aromas Them oo-wops was spitting, putting people into comas You young rap motherf**kas modern day Urkel Jimmy taking tabs of that model ray purple The same d**kheads still running the same circle Gold sabre, black bell bullets, they hurt you Car Louis, gold metal, skip across the beat Sometimes you go around the world to get across the street I don't gotta kill em, I just let em all to plea We don't clap at em, we just give em a receipt I'm knocking your keys, anti [?] the dark orgies And change gon' come, the stranger [?] The [?] my price down but I hope it inflates I'm coming through, motherf**ka open the gates Hahahaha Pistol Gang Pazzie Yo Jay NiCE, salute him 'Nah mean? Official pistol and all that And I'm the Allah
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