Cloak N Dagga - Rhythmatic Jiu Jitsu lyrics

Jeah, Rhythmatic Jiu Jit'su comin to get'chu
G-G-G-G-Giu spit some lyrical shit at you
Rhythmatic Jiu Jit'su
Left hand pin you to the wall
While the right hand lift spoon and sip soup
Bones levitate, I meditate, strong as a ape
Slim as a snake, whatever it takes
Yo I went to the morgue to
Identify the body of rap
Decomposed and entirely whack
I'm the reason every rapper in
The world still breathin
More blood for the machine
Bring the next team in
Brrrap, spit a verse like a five shot burst
Actin like you not hurt
Make your injury worse
Y'all niggas look rich
Put your money in the square
I'mma take you on a walk
Through the metaphor fair, yeah

In the motorpool, odors and fumes
Soldiers in rooms, you notice them
They notice you too
Park my Stryke on the street, open the hatch
And stand on the seat and catch
A RPG with my teeth
They used to call me Gunny on 1-3
I don't give a fuck G
The Mark 19 got one speed
Put your H3 HumVee in the junk heap
The 25 mic might make things ugly

The junkyard dawg, drunk on tour
With biochemical scars, left on my arms
The wanderer, conqueror, turned absconder
And record labels don't sponsor
That kind of monster
Spit so nice, my own lips slice
Come get me a knife
My infrared sight split rights
Got you in a tight squeeze
Coughin up like cream
Like Chinese refugees with white knees
Overseas I was Santa Claus, in camoflauge
With a Mark 19 on my left handlebar
Memorize the landmarks, close to the airport
Can't stay here and talk
Safety is a rare thought
Wanna say fuck this, too late to just quit
Slugs hit
Different type of blood gets published
Wifey complainin cause I'm home on crutches
I complain back because there's
No more dutches, yeah

In the motorpool, odors and fumes
Soldiers in rooms, you notice them
They notice you too
Park my Stryke on the street, open the hatch
And stand on the seat and catch
A RPG with my teeth
They used to call me Gunny on 1-3
I don't give a fuck G
The Mark 19 got one speed
Put your H3 HumVee in the junk heap
The 25 mic might make things ugly

Readily the one repeat, read one copy
Get somebody down here, Canibus is bein cocky
Back from the ash in the flesh again
I'mma keep gettin in like Mexicans
With big breasts, estrogen
Watch who you questionin
You got them girls I requested men?
Low key I'm so lonely, nobody knows me
I move like molecules do but more slowly
People get close to me but only to quote me
Lyrically I feel like the whole world owes me
A thousand years old in dog years
I'm on a lawn chair
My pages dog-eared, I belong here

In the motorpool, odors and fumes
Soldiers in rooms, you notice them
They notice you too
Park my Stryke on the street, open the hatch
And stand on the seat and catch
A RPG with my teeth
They used to call me Gunny on 1-3
I don't give a fuck G
The Mark 19 got one speed
Put your H3 HumVee in the junk heap
The 25 mic might make things ugly

Yeah, the junkyard dawg
Rhythmatic Jiu Jit'su
With biochemical scars left on my arms
The wanderer, conqueror, turned absconder
Def Con Zero over, Head Trauma