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Assassins Lyrics

from W.A.R. (We Are Renegades)

"Assassins" is track #11 on the album W.A.R. (We Are Renegades). It was written by Jamerson, Troy Donald / Landon, Mark / Ibrahim, Tsidi A / Montgomery, Ryan D.
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"Assassins" is track #11 on the album W.A.R. (We Are Renegades). It was written by Jamerson, Troy Donald / Landon, Mark / Ibrahim, Tsidi A / Montgomery, Ryan D.
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[Introduction]
In 2013, the World Government placed sanctions against freethinking individuals in order to force people to adhere to one way of life. An independently funded organization called ("Stop fucking downloading music for free and we can save hip hop!" in reverse) hired 100 assassins to infiltrate the headquarters where files were kept.

Of these 100, 97 were captured, tortured, and executed.

Only three remained.

The third of which was said to own an arsenal that would rival an entire city's police force.

The second was rumoured was to be able to move throughout space and time.

And the first...

[Jean Grae]
Fasten your seatbelts for the last of the three assassins on Earth
The first flashing her purse with a heat stealth
They call me Jean McCoy, the beast in me employed
To ploy deplorable through audible destructive actions attractive to Coy
Hey, pass to the Troy after, I'm passing your life over
He'll deliver it through river sticks
Hades, I'm cold, deliver it lady
My flow is limited, pray me some craze, whispering
"Stay on ya toes villains, it's Grae and your day's whittling!" (hey)
Blistering lines packed in six stick to spine
Rap with a sick mind trapped in thick bitch frame (ooh yeah)
Drug you with strychnine and I drinks you drunk and it's my kidney you dick brain
I'm just itching to slit veins
Stitch lines! Rip game!? Fuck yo lives
Sick range visions nigga, kick rocks or kick rhymes until the pain?
(liquor it or liver) Sippin' it, sippin' it like Capri Sun
Ignorant as ever, she clever, equivalent be none
A ball breaker, call fakers out with passion
You got the gall bastard to brawl with the broad bashers?
The ball's in your court, pass it!
You're worn in four faster than acid
with AIDS slapped on the back of a Kardashian
The wall crasher, you're all in the forecast
The gas pour in the corridors racking your doors blacking out
Catch Grae backing out the back door, cackling
Still make it back to the bar for last call

[Two.]

[Pharoahe Monch]
They ask me why I'm highly regarded, this god body probably
Monch is a mixture of Marcus Garvey, Miles Davis, and Bob Marley (radical)
Never skateboard slang like "gnarly"
More like, we in our whip on our way to the top like Charles Barkley
You are hardly prepared to spar with a marksman spot me
I'm gambit with the ace of spades, I'm mastering archery (Hercules)
Vehicular, particularly the vernacular
Specifically the fit so when I spit it's spectacular and accurate
When I attack I'm more legend than Acura
Flip Bloomberg the bird, bitch, more blood than Blackula
More Christian scriptures encrypted with backwards vernacular
But sicker than most of Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction
I am, that nigga for real
Per capita smacking the next rapper that uses the term "swag" or thereafter
These three assassins get to ass whipping
Prepare to for a professional ass that can shape shifts, spit, hollow tip clips mainly
Sick, ain't he? (mind control)
Make you shoot your best friend in the face, Dick Cheney
My life is like a documentary film
depicted in black and white, flicks grainy (Geronimo!)
I'm on Guantanamo Bay taking pics in a Captain Morgan pose
With my left foot on a pile of detainees screaming "We are renegades!"
Fuck you. Pay me

(Jean Grae) Two. Where the fuck...no. Where the fuck is three?
(Pharoahe Monch) I know. I know. He's gonna be here
He gave me his word, trust me
(Jean Grae) Yeah, but he does this every time
(Pharoahe Monch) He's gonna be here trust me
(Jean Grae) He's gonna ruin this mission for us again
(Pharoahe Monch) Look, here he comes now

[Royce Da 5'9"]
I be riding around with a stripper slash Burlesque model
I make it pop like my cock in Durex condom
I'm a -- opposite artist I find irony in going
from being like a stone in the grass to rocking the Garden
The same irony as going from fully automatic in the backyard to having the whole machine behind me
I take my Australian bitches and show some other thangs
She know my stroke is deadly so she gave me bloody brain
Don't try to get familiar, if I don't feel you in person
I'll flip the script and I'll accidentally kill you on purpose
The baddest when I'm flailing, I got so many furs
PETA gonna paint splash me when they see me, no matter what I'm wearing
Your bitch bout to open up, sniff some blow off of my dick
Guess you could say she on my coke and nuts/coconuts
I'm on point like Chris Paul
You on point like an Atlantic City hooker that licks balls
I'm bout to flip in this bitch like Dominique Dawes
and shut shit down like a car when it stalls
I am the deadliest rapper, you claiming that you flow like water
but really ya'll niggas Evian backwards
Marshall hit the jackpot with this flow that I got
I know when I'm hot
It's my show to stop holding my crotch
My whip cleaner than Amish men in honest ends
Two dimes with me like I'm a twin cause I'm a ten

[Pharoahe Monch]
Okay... I'm in

Songwriters
Jamerson, Troy Donald / Landon, Mark / Ibrahim, Tsidi A / Montgomery, Ryan D

Published by
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

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