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The Four Owls

Air Strike

 

Air Strike

(album: Nocturnal Instinct - 2020)


R.A.
Four Owls
Taking over, son
Let's go

Yeah, it's non-stop like fiends to crack rock
Money that you ain't got
Tryna get to sunny place for the new spot
Change your face like a new ark
To a doggy or a new bark
All your fans love you till you went pop
We hip-hop like head-spins in parking lots
Put it back together like cars in chopping shop
The shit's real but the fans forgot
Like mans that bomb snakes, baby, word to Cot
We pass high, sat looking over your necktie
Fret-wires harder than the ones with the chest size
And chastise, shine coming back like the cat's eyes
Taking what you got like the fat guy
Let 'em in on whim like a bomb inside a bin
Listen in, this is Jim, hear me like a first hymn
Never been and never will till we in store
R.A. and the Four like the R.A.F. at war

Old universes are gone, see the remnants
Mood in the room getting hot, feel the tension
The sickness and the medicine
Apply both and I hope that I cope well
Ride pressure, never coat-tails
I don't need it
Many egos praying I'll spark, I won't feed 'em
Never stop moving, forgot we were human
Tricks of the trade, charge to the game
Party in the front, business in the back room
We're not tryna sit around listening for the bad news
Check the momentum we gain, it's powerful
King in the game, new reigns out to shower you
They call dumb shit power moves
Stepping out the blue, found a new racer thing
It's paper-thin chances you could take the win
Saw them flex at the weigh in and get weighed in
Damn, why they do you like that?
I don't know, shoulda shut the fuck up, I guess
Tryna think straight with that hate in your mind
It's like tryna balance on the blade of a knife

Airborne like a virus
Drunk but still the pilot
Words touch grooves like the stylus
Kill 'em all with their own silence
Style kinds peg-legged, circle this island like pirates
From the sediment, vibes attached to the gold like wedding ring
We does this like this, fuck your preference
Boss man like the president
Don't teach but could ask how the lesson went
'Cause shit's wack now
Sounding like a bunch of rappers on smack
I'm just tryna being 'em back down
Shouldn't give 'em any cash, someone should be sacked
Giving 'em slack, since all the twats coming back 'round
We're rap titans, shit's self-professed but who's fightin'?
A lot puffing out their chest but proof's right
In truce they move silent
All too frightened, want peace but speak violent

I'm old, still rapping and spilling my liquor cabinet
Woop! Woop! Killing a rapper, that be the ambulance
Calculate damage, you're grabbing at a axe
Still don't bring back passion to rapping, we know carelessness
Motherfuckers making a wack track, it's blasphemous
Can't backtrack like cap to back up this
Wanna chat that shit about slapping a bitch
Lacking the chips, they can't stand out like a cat with a lisp
Yeah karma takes life like cancer sticks
I'm 6' 4", leave you short like a acronym
Leaf made the beat, we bring it more, no pampering
Everybody's scampering, mainstream tampering
Go direct to the set, no meandering
I'll die, yes, before I digress
Because I write text to bring life to the dead
Go hyper, yes, see my ghost in the flesh

You dreaming to die for
I spray Lysol in your eyeball
I eat glass, mash my dick through rockfall
I'm a werewolf when the night fall
Jake Gyllenhaal when I Nightcrawl
Body parts when I brawl
Momma done told me I need to grow up
Broke, no luck, I don't give a fuck, so what
Woke up next to the neighborhood coke slut
Coked up with the flesh in her nose tore up
A little bit of Sean P, a little bit of Ozzy
White bitch, Christmas, hoes sniff blow, Bing Crosby
Arabian prince, bitch, got a big posse
The Lone Ranger, Tonto, kemosabe
The immigrant and I be knocking on your border
This is Sodom and Gomorrah
Whether be it in the Bible or the father of the Torah
Got 'em on the bottom rocking a fedora
Dropping 'em in order when I'm shocking a reporter
Break into the spot, make it to the top
Take it up a notch, decorate the watch like a billionaire
Crotch dance art form, pants gone porn
I got more juice than Lance Armstrong, ha

Fatto

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