Swinging Swords

<Chorus>

These rhythms can't deface me

Hot rhythms stimulate me

Can't help but swing it boy

Swing it brother swing

Don't stop the beat that's

slapped this foolish brat

Come on swing me boys

Swing it brother swing

<9th Prince-Over Chorus>

Word up, let's take 'em to war, son

Show 'em how it should be done

It's real God

Yeah, Yeah

Stimulate the brain cells

Check it, Check it

<9th Prince>

Yo Killarmy bounty killers

Industry kid shivers

Shells up through your liver

Dead corp float the rivers

Murderous style is superior from Shaolin to Nigeria

Stalking through the monitor

With the wisdom for dynamical fessor (?)

Lyrical kid in processor

Nat Turner was my militant ancestor

I capture your mind put in isolation

Control the soul automation

Victims became mechanical slaves again

Read the East Coast historian

As you oppose this

Your walking dead soldiers can't get close to this

I be splitting shit like Moses

Then celebrate with Guns 'n Roses

I turn soundtracks into startracks

My tongue is symbolic to an axe

I used to be caught up in the world of Mad Max

Now come against the consequence of the 9th Prince

I sit upon my throne and chop off domes

Then send them home to your peoples

So they can sew 'em

<Chorus-First Half>

<Dom Pachino>

Thoughts I generate like high forms of energy

My brain's energetic

Ultramagnetic synthetic

Burn like oil

High octane let it drain upon the Shaolin soil

You get trapped inside my rap coils

Like my phalanges rip the microphone

When I recite a war poem

It's writen in my soldier's log

It's a Killarmy espionage

Puerto Rican mobster in camouflage

Perform at the Mirage my entourage

Get the ticket through Telecharge as I massage lyrics get enlarged

Grenade particles rip through your fatigue articles

You flee for shelter

My tre pound rounds'll melt you

Like camouflage vinyl in the force of Delta

<Chorus-Whole>

<Killa Sin-Over Chorus>

What, what, one time

Come on, swing it

Bring it, what

Killarm, yeah, swing it

The Gods gonna bring it

Real, what

<Killa Sin>

Yo, yo

You either get down shut the fuck up or catch an uppercut

Rough enough to muffle up your jaw when we knuckle up

Knuckle what? Bacardi hit me harder than you

You crash dummies show respect when the Gods is coming through

Eyes swollen up the size of coconuts

Your body folding up

Allah the soldier struck and through the cut I walk and hold you up

Sit back hang from your hip like loose Kani's

Try to flip it on the strength of your wis' and let you slide

Savage eighty five trying to test sides

True we're living thirty two shots

We're sending a rocket to your prison

Caught you bubbling

Like a cold sore the money coming in

Juggling the church and street life you got me wonderng and catch 'em

I let Allah bless 'em

That's the question

You dealing with a madman's profession

So choose your weapon

<?-Chorus Heard in Background>

Word up, Killarmy

Taking y'all to another war ground

Hold down the battlefield, word up

Shout outs to all my Universal Soldiers

Killarmy, word up

Deep Space 9, the Clan, word up

Sunz of Man

My nigga High Style, word up

To all the soldiers in all the fifty two planets

New York, Ohio

Philadelphia, word up

My Anna locked down Atlanta, for real

Little Rock, Miami

Pittsburgh, word up

Washington D.C., upstate for real

To all my juvenile niggas that's locked up in Tober Center

Word up, Ryker's Island

Peace to Big Queen (?) and Supreme

Word up the God and General Wise

General Wah

Word up to the last soldiers

My nigga Islord still locked down in the jungle, son

Word up keep your sword up son, Killarmy gonna represent this shit, son

Word up, peace

Get out of here

Peace