The Four Owls, R.A. The Rugged Man - Air Strike lyrics

[The Four Owls, R.A. The Rugged Man - Air Strike lyrics]

RA four Owls takin' 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 lookin' over your necktie
Fret-wires harder than the ones
With the chest size and chastise
Shine comin' back like the cat's eyes
Takin' 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
RA and the Four like the RAF at war

Old universes are gone, see the remnants
Mood in the room gettin' 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 prayin' I'll spark
I won't feed 'em
Never stop movin', 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 listenin'
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
Steppin' 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
Soundin' 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 givin' 'em slack
Since all the twats comin' back 'round
We're rap titans
Shit's self-professed but who's fightin'?
A lot puffin' out their
Chest but proof's right
In truce they move silent
All too frightened
Want peace but speak violent

I'm old
Still rappin' and spillin' my liquor cabinet
Woop! Woop! Killin' a rapper
That be the ambulance
Calculate damage, you're grabbin' at a axe
Still don't bring back passion to rappin'
We know carelessness
Motherfuckers makin' a wack track
It's blasphemous
Can't backtrack like cap to back up this
Wanna chat that shit about slappin' a bitch
Lackin' 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 pamperin'
Everybody's scamperin', mainstream tamperin'
Go direct to the set, no meanderin'
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 dreamin' 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
Knockin' 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 rockin' a fedora
Droppin' 'em in order when
I'm shockin' 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

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