Round 'Em Up

[Intro]

Yo man, yo, I don't know man

Yo this rock thing got me buggin yo

Word, I be buggin out and shit

Yo, yo

[King Just]

Baby are you ready? On the zone high

Oh why, must these bastards try

To test, my buddha cess, mine I remind

The Fist knew the time, and I came wit the rhyme

Fly, on top of the world

I came to kick this shit for the boys and the girls

Twirl, into the wind of Shaolin

Begin where you want, and end where you in

Come on, send, a message to you crew and your troops

That my Soldiers stomp like Timberland boots

Fruit, roll up, yo hold up, lucky

Make your the 'cal is tight, packed in tuckly

I might be, comin at a project near you

Wit the Zoo and the Two, and the whole shaboo

Shebang, it's the God doin his thing

And it ain't no thang, but a chicken wing

The King, sits on the throne wit a bone

And I'm known, from makin a fuck wit microphone

In the zone on my own, always singin alone

And I'd be damn, if I take a fuckin ugly bitch home

Roam through the ancient tomb of doom

A metamorphosis, that becomes a cocoon

[Chorus]

Round 'em up, move 'em up, lay 'em down (flat)

Shootin M.C.'s wit my lyrical (gat)

Never had to front cuz the Mob got my (back)

Like that (like that) like that, like that

[King Just]

Yo, I'm back, to set shit straight

Aiyo, waitin from the King

You never make it past the castle gates

Norman Bates is my fate, but I gotta escape

I fuckin hate the plate, but I know I gotta date

Escape to the next cut, and blow up, grow up

Ah, rhymes that'll fuckin rot

To your ear, my style is sharp just like a spear

I see fear, whenever the God presence is near

Clear, the way, cuz I slay

Everyday in May, and niggas don't come around my way

You better head for the door

Cuz I get raw, plus I'm Shaolin stompin through ya floor

I want more, pounds and sounds, I'm gettin down

Lick 'em down, I represent place, home and sound

Peep my style, I'm back wit the high pro-lo

Another flow, another sound boy over the rainbow

Aiyo, can I get a fat one? I'm back son

Dead men tell no tales, will be the outcome

The wild hon', hit ya so hard

To make a buck reign rock it to Meth

And blow the fuck up

[Chorus]

[King Just]

It's the return of the bad h-h-holes

No one knows where I get my strange flow

You're slow, it's the Mystics of the God

The Sex, Money, the Cess, and the Blas'e Blah

No sellout, no doubt, cuz I'mma represent

Cuz Wayne's World, I'm excellent

Bah humbug, he'll catch a slug from the slug (blaow!)

Black Fist make the way while the Shaolin show love

Oh lord, that means it's my turn to rock

Hemp pump cock, as I'm smokin up the block

Nonstop, I got skills to go on and on

From dust to dawn, from night to morn'

Word is bond, you're corn, will get eaten

Just like a Terrier, I ain't scared of ya

Yo what's on in the area

[Chorus 2X]

[Outro]

Harvard tactics from the Black Fist