E.j. - Take Out A Stack lyrics

Verse 1:E.J. Who am I? I'm a basterd, I stolen off ya and blast at ya Smokin' more blacks than the part time wars in Africa I'll ?? out the martyrs for beef Rest in piece alot of you reef(?) designing your greef By snatchin' your brother, smackin' your lover Paralizing your cousins, smokin' your mother's husbands A dozen chosen showguns to shotguns Roll up on you with no guns but still pop one I bomb like napalm from the curb to your house And "Please God" the last words out ya mouth No affiliates, just dogs and troops Most lyin' d**h than this morgue and roots All we choose to beef, I bring spatulas Flip it and throw it back at ya, so bring your gat with ya Spectacular murder manufacturer, f** binacular Only heaters talkin, I'm trappin ya just to flattin ya Hop in the accura, roll up on the back of ya Chill out in 5, and then them n***az act alive I smoke branches from off the tree tops I hang with real n***az, PA's, PK's and Pete Rock Y'all n***az with pre-ops, spill blood and Reeboks Don't discriminate blastin rookies on the e-box(?) Your streetforce envolves just for excitement Like if you wasnt you never heard of enditement I sum it up quick so that you can understand me f** you, your crew, your b**h and your whole family Chorus:Nas b**h I ain't illin I'll pull your f**ing head off while your a** is winddillin' Go heads the triggers of the penot scott villian(?) Vericons(?) march, atleast shoot a million Dirty Dozen the first week? at least a billion Verse 2:E.J.Yeah yeah.. What's my motherf**ing name? Royce Nickle Nine A messiah of all, much higher than y'all, undeniably raw Quick to blow the f** up and reform again The bomb threat re-occured, re-warn your men I promise you get toared up and re-torn again Not one slur or word will be re-born again As long as the sh** cracks and they turn a loop up I spit it until it's pitch black and burn the roof up Better step the f** up for the sh** getting spit Turns to whips getting lit, turns to tick-tick-tick n***az be rapping just for the clubs, just for the love That hit you had in the club sound like sh** in the truck That's why I love that n***a X, cause he raised my brow With every rhyme, without having to take my style It'll be a cold day in hell when these two soldiers lay in hell Talk to me Chorus:Nas b**h I ain't illin I'll pull your f**ing head off while your a** is winddillin' Go heads the triggers of the penot scott villian(?) Vericons(?) march, atleast shoot a million Dirty Dozen the first week? at least a billion