Heltah Skeltah - Ruck N Roll lyrics

"Good night Idaho! You were great
We love you!" "This last song, is for you!"

It's Da Incredible amazing
Unbelievable, yet mad basic
You caught in a matrix
(David Blaine, Criss Angel the Mindfreak
I wave and bang, ya shit dangle
The mind leak and ain't a thing for the
Gang to bang heaters
I keep my hands clean, bitch
Call me the gang leader)
Shit you can call me commander in chief
When chiefing that damn reefer
And have me thinking in another
Language I can't teach ya
Writing rhymes when I'm around
Of ya mans sneakers
Have you appauled, saying it's ya
Ghost or ya damn preacher, but look
(Lord have mercy, Jesus Price, P)
I'm Sephlo Dollar, he's just nice, huh!
(Listen, Hallelujah, holla back
Hollow points leave ya head just
Like that Sleepy Hollow cat
I will Amadu, in armored Starter cap
P, the ambiance of a homicidal maniac, P)
"Asia, Africa, Tokyo, we love you!"
"Heltah Skeltah, baby, Ruck N fucking Roll"

There's a method to this madness
First of all I'm anti wack shit
Second to flow, gon' do backflips, acrobatics
Roller coaster flow, rope-a dope you hoes
Punchlines either open up or
Broke ya fucking nose
(Cosa Nostra flow, toasted from
The shoulder holster blow, bONG!
Wet 'em dead a head a
Nigga let them niggas know)
I 'poke a nose' wit a icepick
Fuck the 'Resort' resort to violence
And not them little fucking guitars
(Fucking with R) R-O (U, C) C (K) K
To ya face (Insert the clip, pop and pray
This is not hip hop hooray
This is push rocks a block away
From the spot, cuz it's hot, ok?
Listen, Sean Price move belittle your squad
Like Omar, worse than Little Canard
Muthafucka)
Huh, I ain't no Jim Carrey Ridder, dog
But, I carry a gem star, I will give it to ya
Split 'em in four, suckas

"Denmark, Amsterdarm, Oslo, we love you!"
"You fucking guys, rock, man
Ruck N fucking Roll" "You were awesome
You guys have a great night"

Psycho, but like no, bitch ass niggas
Talking bout they such and such, but when
I see 'em in the streets, what?
(You cannot rhyme, rhyme, you
Should not rhyme, rhyme
Your squad wack
Contracts you should not sign
Curtis Jack' got clapped about nine times
Murdered cats wit a gat, you got nine lives
I got nine knives, I got ten macks
Mack 10's, clap them, where ya friends at?)
Hold on, if I said ya name
It's probably not an attack
Probably not, but it's probably a fact
Probably you probably wack, probably crack
Probably is that yo shit
Rhyme wit raps, plus I can do that
Die to you fags
Now you say that I'm gay bashing
Ain't talking to them, I'm talking to you
When I scream faggots you lame asses
Gon' hate and bring glad to this
In more ways than one, ain't that a bitch?

"Good night folks
It was great rocking with you guys"
"See Note and Frunkberg in the
Back of the merch table"
"We have T-Shirts, CDs, DVDs
Distilled hot dog water, good night folks!"