CHOPS - War lyrics

(feat. Kev Turner)

[Kev Turner]

Who in the world want war

With this thorough Philly boar

Underground like the earth's core

I took the elevator up to the first floor

What in life do you search for?

What have you been put on this earth for?

How much of America's money are we getting paid to work for?

Corporate conglomerate, ?? link becoming dominant

I'm an MC you don't wanna have a problem with

I speak spuriously, sign and shine gloriously

Spitting vomit that's thicker than mucous

Paint oil pictures of the future clearer than George Lucas

To the day that we all become human computers

And freedom of speech will be obsolete cause we be muted

Yo, I eats, sleeps and breathes raw inner city music

The flow that I spits is not to be confused with

Commercial radio rap put out for your amusement

God gave me a brain so I'ma use it

[Hook: scratched]

Who in the world want war [x7]

with this thorough Philly boar

[Verse 2]

I gets do-o-own like the diaboloical B-I-Z M-izza M-izza-A-R-K-I-E

Trapped behind these bars of life, can't say that I'm free

Cause when I wake up, hell on earth every day I see

In this 360-degree sphere of fear, beware

Of things falling near, and stay prepared for the worst

So much vital information you could find in each verse

Before I die I bury my rhymes beneath the dirt

Indestructible, ? on God's green earth

Your local war machines, like me, can't be hurt

Catch me in the Library of Congress doing research

In DC, in a P.E. "Fight the Power" t-shirt

Copyrighting everything I write, so y'all can't bite

I'm here to shed light, ain't no stopping with a red light

Hip-hop heads get hyped - it's Kev Turner

No relation to Ike, when I strike I might murder

[Hook]

[Verse 3]

Q dimensions stay coming off

Like female porno star's panties and bras

Pop Dukes, old school, straight "son"ning y'all

With new school lyrical tools leavin you stuck without a gun to draw

You don't wanna ball with these words, they hit hard

Doin away with ? , then punk bruises and scars

Gang war, you better call it a truce, use your smarts

I'm two thousand and two tons of lyrical art

That'll crush your heart and discourage your courage

Destroy your sole purpose on this eartly surface

The rawest, I'm flawless call me Mr. Perfect

Cock back, my style goes off on the track, straight murk it

We the current that circles through the underground circuit

Fill the streets full with serpents that feel life is worthless

When it's really just as precious as birth is, but first things first

Drown in the depths of the sounds of these verses

[Hook: scratched to end]