Swords Drawn Lyrics

Chief Kamachi:

Yo the Pharaohs back, less than an hour's nap
Woke up in a cave on the top of Mount Arafat
Blood on the tarot pack, the power black
Street mystic get you twisted with your barrel packed
119 they blamed it on some Arab cat
I meditated, and left two towers flat
With they own, section 8 Egyptian power rap
Little spump, sparkling bump, no spiritual
Don't let me start with the pump, pecked
Faggot preacher pluck a heart for the punk
I got a passion for putting bloody parts in a trunk
It's The Messiah, never been a musical kump


The Colosseum fiending, screaming "Demoz!"
They could see the pour-up from Europe to Lehigh
When they see I'm coming they running I keep nine
Shots for they stomach and face, eat five!
Never will I run from a case like a cheap guy
If I can't afford the lawyer, I'll burn him like deep fry
Undeveloped faggot, I'm classic like Levi's
Rap marathon, I passed them like three times
Take my rap skills multiply by three times
All it takes from my verse to beat him is three lines
Peep my battle ability weak guy
If I can't walk over you nigga I leap high
Shoot looking down when I pass, you scream "Why!"
You bit my whole style with no teeth I reply...
You walking all task barefooted, my sneaks tied
Talking out your ass when you shouldn't you speak lies


Whenever I say so we full court pressing 'em
Hand on the rock and cross over like the rest of 'em
Who got the ratchet? I crack the pendulum
My adrenaline race the pace you trembling
My regiment take shots of bad medicine
Extinguish the game like distinguished gentlemen
Severus so far the best with the pen again
Venomous ink, paint the picture so elegant
Elevate my state, I'm high like a Pelican
Powerful punchlines puncture through your skeleton
Space niggas erase niggas irrelevant
Post-up prevalent, in my development
I make the case, so the dope can settle in
"Paz, there's no booze!" so we threw the kettle in
Pharaohs amongst the king, now that's tenement
You demand sin, and get the pen, and Cryp, "Send 'em in!"

Mind bender, line sender
Time ender, Pharaoh front line member
The mic's a divine ember burning you
The blood doesn't trickle, it sprays
I'm ????
For centuries, held down bars like penitentiaries
You entertain, it's funny like Kevin James,
now stay in your f**king Lane like Clark Kent, you get it man?
Hip-hop's deader than Vince Lombardi
It's full of whine and crackers like your wife's dinner parties
I'm a Pharaoh, swords drawn for battle
Running with apes like Ann Darrow

Reef the Lost Cauze:

I ain't wit this rap shit dog, I literally kill em
Put the Colt 45 to your lips like Billie Dee Williams
It works every time, I murk every line
It never gets easier, it hurts every time
I been the best, I got kids on the Internet
Seeking my approval like they send a f**king friend request
Uh..Denied, Go, f**k your life
I crump-up your head, and up-chuck your rhymes
Barf, you know vomit and such
You got no fans so you claim being popular sucks
That's called hating, your brain is all vacant,
I'd never sit down and eat with y'all, it's all bacon

Celph Titled:

Demons and gargoyles, lions and wizards
We leaving 'em hard-boiled and frying they gizzards
That's what Celph Titled rhyming will get ya
Act like a bitch guy and get stabbed in the eye with my scissors
Rap super-star for now, hip-hop legend for later
Leave a treacherous crater with a push of this detonator
So who's ill and who's not? Who's popping and ooh-wop
Who's a cross between El Chupacabra and Tupac?
(Well, who else but you Celph?) No sandals on my shoe shelf
Just a pellet gun leave a huge welt
Army of the Pharaohs never make love songs
We finger f**k bitches with Freddy Kruger gloves on

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Songwriter(s): Agostino Marangolo, Fabio Pignatelli, Claudio Simonetti, Massimo Morante
Publisher(s): Bixio Music Group Ltd., Copyright Control
Record Label(s): 2016 Babygrande Records, Inc
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