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Song title: King Just - Shaolin Soldiers

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[intro]
Thats all we got, we gonna need
Choose, you ready
Yeah, lets do this shit
Yeah, yeah, yo who be that?
Yo thats the god?
Yeah, word up, niggas gotta learn to fuckin answer me dude
I want em all, fuck that
Shaolin, shao!!!

[king just]
What, what, my gods is raced up
The thought that I throw is like a blow to your gut
Word up, what the fuck, the God creates drama
Two-six horror, terrorize the nigga mama
I smell marce in the air, yeah
Where, all my gods standin right here
In the rear, tryin to sneak me from behind
Shaolin, rush em, nah nah hes mines
Die earth scum, die, die
Its just like a needle goin straight to my eye
Oh why, does it have to be this way
I dont know, but I flip the shit everyday
So come on, where you at, where you at
Pass me my gat, ima kill a cat, if they ever fuck wit the rats
And that be the shit in my life
The God aint trife, yikes, yikes
Fool strikes, kung fu, killa comin through
Ooh, that be that nigga from the zoo
But yet ya wanna ask me, how I slam a jam
Its simple, all I do is gram on a gram in a cracker
Hit ya like a linebacker, imma gat ya
When I get ya, imma blast ya
Blaow, like kool moe dee, how ya like me know
When my style is ill, raow raow

[chorus 6x]
Shaolin soldiers! (hey!)

[king just]
Enough is enough, wit this corn ball stuff
About who can get rough and tough, or who can get snuffed
Please, if you came to battle, then rap
Cuz your name aint scarface, and you dont own no gat
You aint hurtin nothin, aint no future in frontin
You probably aint even sayin nuthin
Yo youre bluffin, puttin like your styles is phat
But your rhymes are wack and you sound like you on plaque
New jack, youre a wanna be, down to be, soon to be
Whatever you want, let it be
And imma hit ya wit a safer rap
To make you shut ya trap, and get the God hand clap, smack
Hit across your lips wit some shit
That make ya wanna spit and do two back flips
Blue top, I clear through the air
You against me? well I dont think thats fair
You need more people to match my equal
And even if then, there wont be no sequel
Yo, lets get straight to the matter
How my thoughts get phatter and phatter and phatter
Ask betty crocker, yo its in the batter
And 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 back
Damn nigga, you must of wasted ya time
If you wanted to be rapper, I done wrote you a rhyme
Yo, you dont get no props, for bitin my shit
You only get props, for bein on my dick
But when you hear this, dont be mad
Just be glad, that I aint whip on ya monkey ass
You got a lotta balls bitin my style
Soon we gonna be on it like aow, aow
Put your shit on the court
Cuz this one here takes to take em, yo Im brake
Lord forgiveness sake, for they do not know what they do
When they bent the zoo, I should of brought it to they whole crew
Badoop a doo, oh my God nigga, lets be real
The eight commandment, says thou shall not steal
Help police, Im being robbed
By some corns on the car, that need to get a fuckin real job
The mob rocks more shit than boulders
I told ya, everybody cant be a soldier

[chorus 9x]