"War Party" as written by and Paul E./lewis Huston....
featuring Horror City



I'm that dope up in your brain with syringes

Comin through kickin doors off the fuckin hinges

I'm in this like forty fiends on seven day ventures

Comin with my family offend the great beginners

The slender of a never ending back bender

My agenda be the legal tender blue fox in the winter

Say it with me yes mad style in the streets

Bitches that be blowin up my hip with mad reaps



Murder me? You musta never fuckin heard of me

I get thank you letters for my mind, you see, I'm fillin vacancies

And don't even mention surgery, because they awarded me

For bein a man who do the most to boost the industry

Injure me, see the evil spirits enter me

Now it's singletary, now imagine me, an entity (uuhhhh!)

If I cut you through, you not bleed

If I bust up in a guts, douching out ?????



I hear the silent dope fiends scream

It's gotta mean somebody's scheme, on the stash again

I'm spittin hollow points like phlegm

I'd probably bring a friend but he'd say

ease, I'm driftin off in the galaxies

Feel the sea freeze throughout vicinities, eeaaaww!!

While prophecies that kick the sky splits

Omigod, droppin clips is this the end?

Forever I'll be never injured, why because the devil had me shook

I'm shakin, this evil spirits takin flesh is bakin in



Here's a, special delivery, of the pain and misery

Can you maintain it? The degrees of temperature can be caused

I'm the guy that pulls the wool over your eyes, and move

I watch streets, the 45s in the skies, and be

Whatever y'all call that, that bridges the gap

And in suspended animation and reality rap

Picture like Kodak, and wax floors clean, is Kojak

Engine Novak, or front row wigs get blow back



Deacon, comin up the reel with the wicked

Two felony convicted, college ?verbisin?

Murderin, open up your guts kid, what?

I'm diesel like three fifty, woke up with mad cuts

and don't give a fuck

I snatch the soul out your back, so how you figure

You could hold your fuckin own, you're a clone

Alone in the world know ?I Gender be ?

Once a friend of me, now we're known as bitter enemies



Check it, check it

We charge up like a nine volt, drama beef

You better hold I pack a 45 Colt with a mad kick

Cause when I lit, the ho's got snitch

You better duck quick before you get your shirls knicked split

I blaze knock this one, it's on it's on, for reals

Steel pull out, call my bluff, a nigga fade to sear

In a second or a minute I reckon I be in it

Put all rings for high beams tanks ?????????



Enough of this S and M

Them leather wearin bitches whippin men

>From a corner of a dead end, I can't forget my dead friends

And that's what makes my brain sporadic

Plus I got a bad habit, of mixin alcohol with automatics

Who got static? I came to set it off and get this party started

Those who provoke, is gettin choked, I ain't no fuckin joke

My friends won't go anywhere with me, anyone in the vicinitiy

Charged with conspiracy get death by electricity



Niggas get confused, not knowin what I'ma do

I sit and wait for niggas to make an ill-advised move

I save the way that could be from here to there

Bustin shots, some secluded spots you don't know where

So where art thou, where art thou

Talkin about your dead family members, pal, don't fuck around

Or for cryin out loud, tellin' you now from Jump Street

Whoever steps up I'm leavin them bleedin' profusely


Lyrics submitted by Breakingbenjaminfan

"War Party" as written by Chris Burke Brian Jackson

Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

Lyrics powered by LyricFind

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