KA - Iron Age Lyrics
[Featuring: Roc Marciano][Hook x2: Ka]Born in a sinning place, mourned and been at wakesScorned the grinning jakes; it's on, I send the apesGenerate cake scraped off dinner platesNiggas wanna be tough; it's us they imitate[Verse 1: Ka]Me and my chrome hip, lone clip; put in work, won't quitMy word is bond; yours won't stickLong as it's dough to grab, I'mma hold a macLoad the bag, 'til I'm a helmet and a folded flagLone peasant, roam desert, no canteensSee if a hand green; did dirt, so can't cleanIn time you'll see a thin line between friend and rivalBetween you and me, stupidity and men's bravadoAlmost died trynna make paper, not pacifiable (?)Mac-10's reliable in fight mode on that night roadZoned out on the block, cops' ice soldRaw covering the door; suffering more like JobThere's a flashback: stash packs by the light poleRecipe: desperately press keys like I write codeNo typo; I'm quick-witted, you type slowPromoters call me Moses by how I spark and leave, noticeComing through the crowd, my staff parts the seaMake fly jams for live fans that's hard to pleaseUse Bally trainers (?) while I parry, feint, bob, and weaveIn rough waters, niggas boat; I stay and never waverY'all all sweet; I'm all unique with a better flavorIf my phonetics don't take, I'mma net a caperCarry heat, reppin' Hull Street and DecaturStayed in hell all my life; I need heaven's visaKnow what's right, but won't change overnight like Ebenezer[Hook x2][Verse 2: Roc Marciano]I'm flattered; guys are fried ad batteredHousewives are battered, knives are jaggedWhen it's static, bring and automatic to combat itI hit the henny like it's padded; you panicThree from the cannon trample you like a wooly mammothThe minivan vanished, I burn 'til my eyes slantedMe and Ka set a higher standardThe money got sent through a wire transferFerrari body like exotic dancers'Eat you from the inside like cancerI'm a panther, you real prissy and pamperedLyrically, to me, you're a pamperMy stanzas, I gotta hand 'em out to fiends like samplersBut honestly, I should've went to StanfordBut what I learned from scrambling ain't in the pamphletGotta keep a tool like repairman (yep)Can't afford to be and move carelessNiggas'll put that Mac-10 to your spare ribsYou heard the prophet spokeI'm from the projects; to get by, sold dopeHad high hopes for folks that got high on cokeWho used to be responsible adultsFell from grace, in love with the way freebase tasteFrom the hood to L.I. to B.K
