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letra de the slayers club - r.a. the rugged man

[intro]
yeah, when the devil come boy
the devil devil gonna come smiling

[billy danze]
yo, what the f-ck these n-ggas talking about, man?
[vinnie paz]
r.a., love you brother, yeah

[chorus: m.o.p.]
same script
who come up out up out the four for ya
liveness, still out of control for ya
we home team, we gonna roll for ya
marksmen, put’em in a hole for ya
yeah, yeah
put’em in a hole for ya
yeah, yeah
creep up on’em slow for ya
long range, boom, there they go for ya
m.o.p., we put’em in a hole for ya

[verse 1: vinnie paz]
this official pistol gang
philly where we bang at
pull up in the bugatti and hit’em where they hang at
there was no consideration where them bullets rang at
you was gettin’ popped if you was hangin’ where they slang at
rugged man is always wildin’ out, boy trippin’
that’s what you get for thinking you live like an audition
bullets coming out of the blue like they called griffin
fuel injector, funeral director, the mortician

[verse 2: chris rivers]
y’all better fall back or get jaws cracked
all facts, i go to your skull, ya softer than b-llsacks
so pause, they say my force is the fourth hors-m-n
i’m more that, splatter your organs
get spreaded, [?] call it the rorschach
guess the image is a b-tterfly
my fist is lightning, rain and thunder
i can snuff a guy and make him wish his mother died
and break anatomy, chemically causing casualties
endlessly pull your brains out or shatter your memories

[verse 3: chino xl]
the living god that is held at the highest regard
with more sick entries than whitney houston’s toxicology report
who got top chart position in an image that’s tricking the children
with a little litter that’s [?] but i spit it raw
voodoo i saw through you like a woman in a wooden box
and i’m a magician, give you a face peel, not the type you get from an [?]
i stomp your skull ’til it breaks with an ice skate
if y’all n-ggas is lit, then chino’s burned at the stake

[chorus: m.o.p.]
same script
who come up out up out the four for ya
liveness, still out of control for ya
we home team, we gonna roll for ya
marksmen, put’em in a hole for ya
yeah, yeah
put’em in a hole for ya
yeah, yeah
creep up on’em slow for ya
long range, boom, there they go for ya
m.o.p., we put’em in a hole for ya

[verse 4: onyx]
[sticky fingaz]
strap the f-ck up, i just came out a coma
you better buckle up, we running n-ggas over
if [?] sober
you ain’t smoking sticky-icky, one hit’ll choke ya
[fredro starr]
i’m sick with it, a mental patient psyche [?]
where crimes get committed and n-ggas get drug addicted
when n-ggas [?] ’cause we bit in, razors be getting spit in
cut his face up, now he need stitches

[verse 5: r.a the rugged man]
i sn-tch purses, i p-ss in churches
i work the burners in lucifer’s furnace
sip the blood of a virgin out of a thermos
i gun buck ’em, f-ck a fist, razor ruddock
cut a wrist, i cut ’em, gut ’em like a fish and let them lay in gutter p-ss
the bats, gats, battle ax, make a back collapse
slap a democrat, pack a rat
smack crackas in maga hats
i rewind the time, put you in a dumpster aborted
i crush you skull into dust, chop it to powder and snort it

[pre-verse]
brand nubian
(once again)
brand nubian

[verse 6: brand nubian]
[sadat x]
punks jump up to get beat down
[lord jamar]
or throw you in the f-ckin’ trunk
[sadat x]
with your feet bound-
n-ggas want beef?
[lord jamar]
get your meat ground
[sadat x & lord jamar]
nyc is not a sweet town
[sadat x]
hear the crack of the bones
[lord jamar]
and let the streets run red
have you shackled in your home
[sadat x]
with a gun to your head-
this is personal
[lord jamar]
it ain’t sh-t about bread-
reversible skull
[sadat x & lord jamar]
when i’m splittin’ that head

[chorus: m.o.p.]
same script
who come up out up out the four for ya
liveness, still out of control for ya
we home team, we gonna roll for ya
marksmen, put’em in a hole for ya
yeah, yeah
put’em in a hole for ya
yeah, yeah
creep up on’em slow for ya
long range, boom, there they go for ya
m.o.p., we put’em in a hole for ya

[verse 7: ice-t]
yeah!
iceberg, n-gga. the rugged man made the call, i’m here…
my n-ggas ain’t bloods, they straight crippin’
my n-ggas ain’t cool, they set trippin’
thought it was a game til’ you felt that hot lead
my gats ain’t semi, they belt fed
pop up at ya motherf-ckin’ crib like god d-mn
found out where you lived on your instagram
25 cops, the crime scene
my n-ggas crash the pad like a seal team
burn motherf-cker, one syllable ice
more whips than the passion of christ

[verse 8: m.o.p.]
[billy danze]

[lil’ fame]

- r a the rugged man

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