DJ Muggs, Rome Streetz - High Explosive lyrics

Get fucking smoked smoked nigga

Ayo it's the high explosive (Uh, huh)
Buy and fry your mind with a dosage
If I go they nose drip, fold and dope-sick
Yo forever po-po can blow dick (Fuck ’em)
I squeeze the can' to Uncle
Sam for Sandra Bland
On some free smoke shit
My lifestyle wild illegal slash slightly woke
With a splash of punch you
In your mouth fast, like a Floyd jab
(Uh huh, yeah) your arms too short to box, B
I only like her if she pretty, hot
Thick and knock-knee freak like Roxy
Seen who dreams die from
Gangbanging and oxies
Envious eye idiots with palms
On they pistol grips if you lit
It's smart for you to act
Like you ain’t got shit (Stay low)
Play it lowkey like Fritz
And reap the benefit's
These niggas, they be bootleg
Don't keep it 10 Benjamins (Frauds)
They love you more
When your body boxed in your grave plot
Earn ya spot
This ain't fall out the sky like a rain drop
(Nah) been through it, highs and lows
College and cocaine spots
These niggas copyin'
Tryna do the shit that I be on
They just some low
Frequency, fool-fraudulent, maricóns
Word to mommy
Me and Muggs cooked the bomb to body y'all
(Body y'all niggas)
Kamikaze how I popped it off
This the hottest sauce
Niggas talkin' like they poppin'
Not at all (Nah)
You cut from a novice cloth i pop you
Slide off then scream "mazel tov" (Ha ha)
Congratulations, for cash I left
Your mask gaping (Brap)
I’m him, Iceberg Slim with a splash of Jason
I’m the illest, none of you fags adjacent
(None of y'all) nah, not even close
I got it all like Inspector Gadget coat
Rap and trap
Move the music like a bag of coke
Fiend the world the fuck out
For the cash we gross, nigga
(Fuck outta here)

Stylistic, for the money pile I
Had to risk it (Had to risk it)
Even in the darkest times remain optimistic
Stayed on my grind
Knew that I would pop with this shit
(Knew it)
Saw the signs and read the writings
On the wall like hieroglyphics

Somewhere in between a record contract
And a Rikers cop my mind is like a rifle
Knock the Ragu out of writer’s block
Exercise the right to do what I
Do if it's right or not
To eat food and put rice in a pot
I had to do a lot (Had to do a lot)
Got no love for snakes I'm deeply
Rooted in a righteous plot
Still a breakdown off the unit, 500 of wop
(Soul assassins)
Full metal jacket, with practice
Quick take apart the Glock
On point like a archer shot
That's why we disregard the garbage
That you other artists drop
It ain’t hard as this
Hear the jargon that I put on
Disk and you know God exist
I'm Bruce Leroy whippin' Sho-Nuff fast
With the charged fist fuck the game up
Can't fix this blowin' in the cartridge
(Nah) for digit's niggas flip quick
Put something in your cartilage (Brr)
Heavy smoke like six cigars lit
When I draw it's arson honest