King Just - Shaolin Soldiers Lyrics
[intro]Thats all we got, we gonna needChoose, you readyYeah, lets do this shitYeah, yeah, yo who be that?Yo thats the god?Yeah, word up, niggas gotta learn to *****in answer me dudeI want em all, ***** thatShaolin, shao!!![king just]What, what, my gods is raced upThe thought that I throw is like a blow to your gutWord up, what the *****, the God creates dramaTwo-six horror, terrorize the nigga mamaI smell marce in the air, yeahWhere, all my gods standin right hereIn the rear, tryin to sneak me from behindShaolin, rush em, nah nah hes minesDie earth scum, die, dieIts just like a needle goin straight to my eyeOh why, does it have to be this wayI dont know, but I flip the shit everydaySo come on, where you at, where you atPass me my gat, ima kill a cat, if they ever ***** wit the ratsAnd that be the shit in my lifeThe God aint trife, yikes, yikesFool strikes, kung fu, killa comin throughOoh, that be that nigga from the zooBut yet ya wanna ask me, how I slam a jamIts simple, all I do is gram on a gram in a crackerHit ya like a linebacker, imma gat yaWhen I get ya, imma blast yaBlaow, like kool moe dee, how ya like me knowWhen my style is ill, raow raow[chorus 6x]Shaolin soldiers! (hey!)[king just]Enough is enough, wit this corn ball stuffAbout who can get rough and tough, or who can get snuffedPlease, if you came to battle, then rapCuz your name aint scarface, and you dont own no gatYou aint hurtin nothin, aint no future in frontinYou probably aint even sayin nuthinYo youre bluffin, puttin like your styles is phatBut your rhymes are wack and you sound like you on plaqueNew jack, youre a wanna be, down to be, soon to beWhatever you want, let it beAnd imma hit ya wit a safer rapTo make you shut ya trap, and get the God hand clap, smackHit across your lips wit some shitThat make ya wanna spit and do two back flipsBlue top, I clear through the airYou against me? well I dont think thats fairYou need more people to match my equalAnd even if then, there wont be no sequelYo, lets get straight to the matterHow my thoughts get phatter and phatter and phatterAsk betty crocker, yo its in the batterAnd imma climb the charts and splatter[chorus 5x][king just]Why would you wanna write my shit like that?Why must the God chase the cat?Why would you even wanna front like that?Smile in my face, and talk shit behind my backDamn nigga, you must of wasted ya timeIf you wanted to be rapper, I done wrote you a rhymeYo, you dont get no props, for bitin my shitYou only get props, for bein on my dickBut when you hear this, dont be madJust be glad, that I aint whip on ya monkey assYou got a lotta balls bitin my styleSoon we gonna be on it like aow, aowPut your shit on the courtCuz this one here takes to take em, yo Im brakeLord forgiveness sake, for they do not know what they doWhen they bent the zoo, I should of brought it to they whole crewBadoop a doo, oh my God nigga, lets be realThe eight commandment, says thou shall not stealHelp police, Im being robbedBy some corns on the car, that need to get a *****in real jobThe mob rocks more shit than bouldersI told ya, everybody cant be a soldier[chorus 9x]
