Lyrics:
U.S.S.R.
P.L.O. style got thrown out the car
and ran over, by the Method Man jeep
Divine can't define my style is so deep
like pussy, my low cut fade stay
whisper
"Yo P's not the same, did you see him diss you?"
I go deep into my thoughts, then I questioned my brain
It wasn't me, the money, or the fortune, it
government views, no racist words said
This is the life of a lemonhead
L.P.S. our standards were met
L.P.S. became a government upset
Welcome to this wasting
chorus
Rock to the beat and then, turn into a walrus
You remain nameless, my victory remains flawless
Acting like you wild, but I know you really
still talking that shit is absurd
My repertoire, is U.S.S.R
P.L.O. style got thrown out the car
And ran over, by the Method Man jeep
Divine can't
(Lyrical LP on the track)
This song is the seed and the melon’s my career
I’mma blow up like a thneed, I’mma kick it into high gear
I’m flying
You don't know me...She didn't know me
Girls around this country think I'm nasty think I'm sexist
But they bought my first L.P.
You know-Grits
chorus
Rock to the beat and then, turn into a walrus
You remain nameless, my victory remains flawless
Acting like you wild, but I know you really
of Al Capone
Gun POW to the dome
And split the bone, wig blown off the ledge
By the alledged, full-fledged, sledge RZA edge
One dose of my feroc(ious)
It's the wild wild west
It's the wild wild west (shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up)
Shoot 'em up, shoot 'em up (it's the wild wild west)
It's the wild
into your world of stiffness
'Cause I've got plenty of rhymes to spill
Ain't got nothin' more than time to kill
Form like a blister, drink like
They can use they dick for a pencil
I'm known for snatchin' purses
And bombin' churches
I get more pussy by accident than
Most niggas get on purpose
I
Come on
Come on
[ VERSE 1 ]
Do this, ugh, come on, come on
Time to get wreck and kick the so on and so on
The I-see-e-T
O.G. M.C.
L.A.P
turn it, stick it, dunk it
P-p-p-p-pump it!
You open the door step into the place
Look around, strange painting on the walls
A chick on the floor
I'm legit
See me, I'm the shit
LP harder hit
OP over it
NPC I'm not it
OMG that's the clip
Pass the glass and ask for passion
Action passing by
portrait of an artist tortured
Trapped in his own drawings
Tap into thoughts
Blacker and darker than anything imaginable
Here goes a wild stab in
and swung
Stick to the core plan, dragged to the back of a trunk
By one of your fans, irony's spectacular, huh?
Now who's a faggot, you punk?
And here's
Into them sound clash see winni'n them, just begginin' them
Get rid of every bit of them with them negative idioms
I don't even consider them
In
Killer Mike and El-P
Tell my stories though hella rhymes and LP's
You frauds speak a dialect we don't dare speak
And that means there's nothing that they
[Master P talking]
It's like all the shit we done been through, the average company
They probably would've gave up by now
But No Limit, we constantly
beautifully articulated
Demonstrated by the never faded strong facial feature
of the teacher, I am the teacher, you can check it
The styles they're
hear that over by the bar?)
'Bout to rhyme, one time, one time (can y'all hear that?)
(Tell 'em, jack)
If MC's don't know, if y'all niggas don't
I'ma feed these other emcees
If they want a piece
I've released a dozen LP's
I will flood the streets
If they got to speak
Homie, please
Learn to keep
Killa Arm 9-8
this L.P.'s a banga
yeah
[Chorus]
Yo, Killarmy in ya Galaxy
in ya continent
in ya state
in ya city
take'em to war throw ya grenade
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