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Warcloud - Cyber Tropic Murder Rap lyrics

Cyber Tropic Murder Raps (Prod. By Skarekrow)

(Warcloud)
Warcloud, Sobretti, Roadblock, Professional (that's me mother fucker!)
I'd like to give a phat shout out to my nigga Bootface, giving you boots to the face
The American Poets, yo: I pop you in the back of the wig with an old pistol
Balcony to horse like old John ?Wilkspooth?
Speak with impediments, murderer in your residence
Marshals gun me down in a bath house in Lexingberg
Warcloud, Elephant-man, skeleton hand
Stash the Crown Jewels in a statue, I came to blast you
Gun-Powder-Keg we make wine in a bath tub
During prohibition I munch grapes and blast slugs
Eighty-eight glass jugs, dusty rifle on war plaque
Wolf pack of raw cats, slump you with heavy tall gats
A ghost wrapped in bandages laughed his way up the burgundy
Five city kids wearing eye patches in the thirties
I lick off shots from a crop-duster, granola raps
Chicks get a hold of that, come and sit on a soldiers lap
You have a weak ass flow that I shall administer to
Gangs tackle crews, sight spinner, the wine opener
Bump you till I slump you, Warcloud the butcher dumps you
A pyramid made of pearl came from ?Talumpu?
Unquenchable fire, I cut you open with water
Trap you with a jagged earth structure and proceed to slaughter
Call my rap Carnage, one-million and eight crowns
This is the carnival of the carnivorous clowns, atomic sound
The wood cutter where birds flock, busting crazy absurd shots
Ultimate heavy cannon mega ton blast and dash
Last zombie swordsmen came to blast the city,
Eat a hungry planet, the one with the scarlet rain
Deranged and insane, my rhymes liquidize your brain
It's the executioner song with spiked chains
Race hammer slammer, a weak rapper beneath the concrete
A heavy dead horse just galloped in from Long Beach
My rhyme style is crazy like piranhas that eat a baby
Cyber Tropic what your whole crew is snuffed

(Chorus 4X (Warcloud & The Professional)

The American Poets (Cyber Tropical Murder Raps) This is Alcatraz, Bang broads in the after math

(The Professional)
The race you couldn't face, I'm chilling with Bootface the man with twelve faces
Le' Ment Configuration, hooks rip the skin off a fucking red neck
The rep kick connect to your mother fucking chin
Dump a bucket of water on you and tie you to an electric fence
Drown in your own blood, feed you your own shit (that's instinct)
Mentally oblivious, your uncreative methods aint working,
Look in to my eyes fucker I'm serious
I spent the past four years making music on my ghetto,
Implements only one percent of my potential
Professional, Pro profile progressing over instrumentals, I emphasize on samples
I'm going to be a success, ?I'm Omar Epps in the Stair Case nearly beating Remmy to death?
Back for revenge, I'm convince I'm gunna win,
Forever defend the underground and never return again…

(Anti The Decimator)
American Poets is grimy alley men
with a 40 of King Colbretty, ready
Armed with a machete and frost folding
Mic corroding, tongue battery acid
I'm a hardcore bat unholy
Thumbtack match, flaming 2x4's hit Mick Foley
Mankind, bend my mind, limestone
Old folk rock, RoadBlock barricade your passage wit a pack of savage canine
My ?datess? fine, how's yours with castration?
Give you cancer and chemotherapy at the same time with a beam of radiation
Nomad glad to see Vlad the Impaler
crusade wars, holy battle zones I'm your father like Vader
MC's is Luke-warm and dirty like puke porn
I like playboy, the clitoris is my play toy
Bitches rain joy in massive amounts of fluid
I'm glued to it until I bust my own Elmer
I be teleporting hoes to the crib, you better helm her
But Jim I'm just a doctor, she didn't want to give up the ass so Spock clocked her
?Stock proc'd her proxy mode a second?
With a short sword that's wooden, eating monkey brains in the temple of doom like they was pudding
As far as the game go, I'm in like Tony Gwen
Bringing ill rhymes to the table as I watch my homies spin
The cops they owe me ten, cause I've been dimed 100
Snitches watching my spine with hunches, so I inclined with punches
So while you climb with plunges, they get fucked up and crumbled and buckled up Like the belt of champions, heavy weight division boxing
My rhymes is nauseous toxins, deadly brain popping like furious lead
I howl to the full moon and roam wit the living dead