BUDDHA MONK


Let The Games Begin Lyrics

[Intro: Buddha Monk]
60 Second Assassin, it's like we need firewater up in here
Yo, yo, we bring the pain, niggas

[Chorus: girl]
It don't matter, if you bring a friend
F.Y.S. is gonna bring the pain
Let the games begin, let the pain begin
Let the rain begin, let the storm begin

[60 Second Assassin:]
I bring the pain, along with a double deuce of ease you lane
Flow through the brain, under and over 60 Sec. Assassin slaughter
Come get your parade rain over, smoke ya, rob ya, gat you over your shoulder
Don't wanna feel the pain? Run, or face these brolic headed dum-dums
Cock back, when the blast, from the Sun attack
Buddha Monk track, U.K., double play, Zu
F.Y.S., Free Your Souls, bring a friend, fool
While we let these games begin

[Courvoisier:]
Computer rap course, Buddha download my chip
Mic check nigga bout to work, that's legit
Burnt out, feel the contact, give me room
Hate to sound rude, but I do what I do
Shot the fair one with ya bitch on my back
Chokeslam my grammar, sweet Futurama rap
Last album strike, raging me off the margin, hardcore
Harder than crack raps of raw, war joe can set it
Hit you up, storm your base
Lay you flat on your face, empty every single case
Squeeze at a slow pace, I'm feeling the rush
Clapped up and bagged up, now they tagging you up

[Chorus: w/ ad-libs]

[Free Murda:]
Once this don approach ya, leave ya face off like John Travolta
f**king with Free and Cronz'll smoke ya
Freeze, spit rounds, split frowns, split clowns
Clip now, shit clown, have you leaking like 2-liters, toke like two meters
It's all murder with these two ninas
Pimp hustler, the moc' out with two miras
I love brain, ain't nothing like two Caeser's
On some "Ah, I love you Freedom, can I hug you, Freedom"
All these bitches in the street, they love to meet him
Haters ice grill and stop fronting, before I pop something
Hope this acco' had to drop nothing
L to the I L, Free Murda, take your burner
Made you a believer, plus a learner
Made you an earner, now fall to the ground, nigga, four-pound, nigga
Shots from four blocks, four rounds nigga

[Buddha Monk:]
It's the big hit, who spit, rhyme clips, my toxic fit
Some shit and leave ya ass in them liners
Last nigga that tried to commit suicide from a first line
Dead ya asshole, hey bati boy, now go
It's the flame thrower, sail with poets like Noah
Architect from Zu, bet that'll leave ya ass wet
Who wanna challenge excalibur, damage all competitors
Take a Kodak moment, it won't last much better
Now wait a minute, it's been a long time anticipated
When I finish throwing darts, it'll leave ya brain plated
Quote ya scriptures, niggas, can't analyze ya pictures
To f**k with this nigga, I only leave ya brain dimmer

[Chorus x3]

[Outro: Buddha Monk]
What, it's official, we nappy, dirty, scum to the earth
All you niggas that don't know what it's worth
Sit back, relax, or we gon' put you in a hearse
What, what, what, what, niggas, what? U.K.!

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