A War Story

I'm from the family sick symphonies underground crowds are into me
Got out the industry 'cause the label became my enemy
It wasn't meant to be the machine was just trying to censor me
Didn't do it for sony so they ended up releasing me
Independent no longer locked down for an infinity
So my vicinity remains true to my identity
Sick jacken exploiting the sound verbal attacking ear drums
From where you're standing you'll catch the rapping
Music of the mask infiltrate past blast out your loud speaker
Haters get ass we get the last laugh like bloodstone
Look at the picture tell me what's wrong
Earthquake weather turned la into a flood zone
We dry it up come with the raw when we transmit the rhyme network
Psycho realm that's my conecta

Sick fucks backing the music with drugs
And now we're taking over the scene we're straight thugs
Hit the exit move the package as we get it
Sick dogs push in the gates and invade it
Moving the revolution through using
All kinds of musical forms of confusion
You win the area battle raw fusion
And fights that light up the night and spell ruin
For street teams caught in youth groups of two's and three's
Means they're shooting soldiers into the county

Radio alerting the streets reach those available
Decide which way to go and which not we move unfadable
Unbreakable underground sounds will be invading you
There's nothing you could do we're breaking through

We move through kingdoms of violent silent weapons
Employ those firing
We're dying
While the puppet master's jerking strings smiling we're fighting
In the street ring not even defying the plan
They set the money bait and we're biting
We document images on song using vocal print
On how you get prepared to go to war against the monument
It's always been and will always be crooked government
Controlling the streets running shit while we're gunning it
Die on it bleed with more numbers than we succeed
Statistics recording the growth of the bad seed
Moving through streets packing my piece watching for peace disruption
And the corruption on the police don't cease
Is there an ending before decease?
Or is death the only exit buried and then released?

Moving through streets we see enemy forces
We drop multi bombs and then flee
All competition will reach defeat
And targets in my mission will die technically
Physically bringing you storm it's on
'til the end of the war has been won you've been warned
Swarm with the strength of destructive psyclones
And police crews get introduced to straight harm
Abused 'cause you want me to lose
They're to protect and serve but never to follow the rules
Street soldiers refuse
We come in the midst of hate with the fate then you're through

Radio alerting the streets reach those available
Decide which way to go and which not we move unfadable
Unbreakable underground sounds will be invading you
There's nothing you could do we're breaking through

Chorus (x1)
Sick dogs collide with your stride
Break them off a left and then right
Fight all over these streets
'till i meet defeat i'm with these
Blocks that rock so many
Wanted by most ain't touched by any foes
Inside circles
Attacking like packs of real sick dogs
Running wild, crazy
Sick in the head get out of hand daily
Sick dogs got one screw missing
Are you a pel

We dominate but feel the pain from bullets my carnales take
Out of state soldiers join us to form a conglomerate
It's out of hate oppressed revolt from feeling that they gotta take
All the weight so we go to war to find another way
Intercept opposite forces entering our sick vicinity
It's killing me how wars that make no sense last an infinity
It's silly shit how a city gets mentally unfit
But really it gets worse when buildings set the scene for murders script
I know you heard of this crisis and what the price is
High stress amplifies the need for all your vices
But steer clear

The simplest shit ain

Chorus (x1)
Time is short and my life is sick
That's how it is man look at this shit
You get abused by street platoons
Hit you like wind and what-cha gonna do?
We break circles of enemies blocks get shot with defeat
They say no drive-by's on the street
So mutha-fuckas run rival sweeps

Sick platoons flood the streets of los
Like a sick typhoon
Mutha-fuckas drive by world wide
And everybody you and i know dies
The only guarantee in life is death your last breath
Come when your famo least expect it
Soldier run wild in your song
Red dawn strikes your back in dead 'nam
Your mind's flipping but the scene's dead calm
And your whole world's thrown and wrapped in psyclone
Alright ride through the city like that
Pants, t-shirts are creased and stole gats
La undercover shoot to kill
Child of the streets run wild in war fields
Scheming on pigs that start shit
Guilty treat us all dirty filthy

The streets are flooded with budded corrupted minds running
Those who can't cut it
Leave the hoodlum studded ghetto wondering what is
The excuse or reason for high treason
In blasting season leaving one of your color bleeding
Repeating never stopping body dropping
'hood rocking window glocking zone shocking
Defending pavement attacking, facing arraignment
Jail's enslavement shackled for justice to the plaintiff
When the charges stick that's it you get hit with some bid
For what you did prevent and rid some kid of his chance to live
'cause of the block he lives in
Not giving a fuck just trying to win your block ribbon
Glock driven joining street platoons like it's some fashion
Going out of style so you catch it for some action
It's no joke homeboys get smoked, poked, 'cause they provoke
Locked on dope no hope for growth that's why we're broke
Short pocket street criminals fail to lock it but crime sky rockets
So where the fuck is the profit?
Maybe in hands of those who supply drugs and weapons
Let's take that shit back by forming neighborhood connections

Chorus (x1)

Cops are found dead and to no surprise
And get classified wasted no lie
They come and invade the wrong life
And only the strong survive so they die
They rest at a place of violence
And 5-0's get broke like codes of silence
Sirens flood the scene with blood
They come firing
We crooks get thrown big books
And hooked with a life sentence
Hunted mental stress on these la streets
Permanent like inks on flesh, shit
We blast off the big guns