Army Of The Pharaohs - Ripped To Shreds
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ARMY OF THE PHARAOHS


Ripped To Shreds Lyrics

I'm coming to your classroom strapped like Kindergarten Cop
(I) End the starters (I) Am the hardest artist to rock
(I) Roll over your whip and turn your strip into a horror scene
When the hammer bust we start a war
We carnivores that need to eat
Ain't running from shit bitch we ain't scared
You ain't gonna disrespect a vet
With a chopper that (got shell catchers)
Won't be no ballistic check
I get the check, I get the dough
Goddamnit I be the shit fo sho'
Celph Titled in the motherfuckin' spot
Motherfuckers get shot, motherfuckers gon' hit the floor
When my above the margin thugs are barging in
Your whole parliament turn butter soft like tubs of margarine
Awesome arson with a large carbon cartridge sparking
Often involved in carving apart kids in they apartment and
You can't see me from this angle (True)
But the torch on my arm will show you what a four alarm blaze will do
The Cuban-Caucasian dude, lacerations from Sabretooth
My bitches hold guns like Sarah Palin in a bathing suit

Light a candle in the snow fuck a Christmas carol
You can kill a Cambodian can't kill a pharaoh
Kill a African Spanish nigga your fucking niece
Kill a president, terrorist, kill a fucking priest
Your momma, your father, your sister, and your right hand
Kill a hustler, customer, kill a white man
See the moral of the story is you can spit ammo at anybody
Kill yourself but not a fucking pharaoh

Believe you not in the league
And obviously you blind to see
You not in the league
You bi wannabe on wine back
Are you high on the E?
I – move like Mohammed Ali, Why?
Test me, you won't want to be my
Food for thought, who woulda thought?
I woulda been something you woulda bought
Cause you woulda thought
I woulda been
Too perked up to prove it again
Too perked up to lose it again
Man these two presh got me moving my pen
And I ain't rolling around
Shot in his head lay a hole in the ground
I ain't gotta wait my moment is now
Why gotta hate I'm the flow of the town
I ain't gotta fake like I'm holding the pound
I ain't got eight I got four in the round
Get shot when the hot trey Glock and it cock and it pop
Sure enough to aim for all you clowns (All you clowns)
Call the coroner now
I ain't trying to stop till I'm ninety and sick
Die like Bonnie and Clyde in the whip
Flows so sick it reminds you of shit
Don't know shit when the coppers around
I ain't never seen Jay copping the pound
I ain't never seen Vinnie drivin' Crown Victoria Ford
At the scene of a homicide case
With a look on his face like fuck you now
Fuck him, fuck her, you can hate me now
I'mma keep on blowing till they break me down
I'mma keep on spitting till they take me down

I'm hesitant to meet people
I have a tendency to eat people
My team feeds you the priest on the discreet steeple
I don't listen to anything you perceive legal
Turn a Christian to anything you would deem evil
Left with holes is how the sub machine leave you
Small and precise, like you was poked with clean needles
I don't drag my brother into it cause he's peaceful
But Vinnie takes a lot of shots like Japanese people
In fact I take a lot of shots like Kobe does
I don't smoke the rock anymore but the homie does
Stoupe the first mother fucker to show me drugs
And how to keep the motherfuckers safe in the Folgers mug
You a bitch, you don't do what a soldier does
If I was you I'd move into the left like Miss Hova does
Peace to everybody living that shows me love
And anybody hating on the god you can hold your slug

these lyrics are submitted by kaan

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