Celph Titled – Mad Ammo Lyrics

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[Intro]

[Hook: Celph Titled]
(Uh-uh-oh) These rappers better watch out
Cause we the livest in the house, boy without a doubt
(Uh-uh-oh) And y'ain't know what this about
We got a hundred rounds, bitch we ain't come to talk it out
(Uh-uh-oh) Yeah we party hard like Mardi Gras
And body y'all without a muthafuckin' bodyguard
(Uh-uh-oh) Everybody face gettin' scarred
Play with God and you gon' come face to face with a shark

[Verse 1: FT]
Haters be tryin' to keep F a secret
Eat dick, I'm not the one to beef with
Peep this, dog, you gon' rest in pieces
For actin' like Sylvester, Garfield, Heathcliff
Pussy MC's I run through yo' shit

Like a untrained blue-nosed pit who won't quit
Foamin' at the mouth cause the bitch is sick

I'm screamin' six words: Fuck you and suck my dick!
You will get served steppin' to me
I guarantee you gon' see somethin' you probably'd never would see
On top is where I'm destined to be
Stop yappin', I make you quit rappin' indefinitely
And I make hits effortlessly, Mr. F-to-the-T
Is gettin' money, smokin' medicine leaves
To be honest it's a deadly disease
I'm way ahead of my league, layin' verses for incredible fees
I got a incredible flow, competitors know
Not to ask for a chance, I'm not lettin' it go
Give me money, cash and ass instead of the blow
You gon' make me spaz and smash yo' head in the do', fool

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Celph Titled]
Double barrel from my vocal booth, I shoot with both lungs
Find me in Beirut with blow guns, I'm Babe Ruth with home runs
You're a crackhead with base hits
Preachin' to the choir like Mase did
They put a price on my head, I asked 'em how much it was
Told 'em find the guy who put the hit, and I'll double it up

No you can't run circles around us, triangular force
BUCK, one round each
Bring war like a rudeboy shotta, steel alloy binoculars
Peepin' ya movements, (Why's he abusive?)
Cause it's easy to do it
Have ya jaw wired, now a straw's required to eat some soup shit
Bitches get souped quick, wanna know how the meat taste
On a man focused on his briefcase
Häagen-Dazs cheesecake at fancy restaurants
Even my chicken breast got a bulletproof vest on

[Hook]

[Verse 3: R.A. The Rugged Man]
Mic check one to the two-a, baby I'm a do ya
And act like I never knew ya, I'm a dirtbag loser, use ya, abuse ya
You better pray I don't choose ya, I'll bloody you and bruise ya
Take you off the streets and recruit ya, you money makin', it's ya money I'm takin'
Takin' ya cake and cookin' ya crack and get it shakin' and bakin'
You basically basin' since 80's and Ronald Reagan
Wigga-wack, jaw crack, sugar pop, dig 'em smack
See me rip a track, young hoes sippin' similak
Bring it back, I'm shovin' pipes up the asses of dykes
Fuck women's rights, I got more pussy on me than hermaphrodites

You hear what I'm doin'? Then say no more
I can smash you with punchlines from '94
Swing, chop, bloody axe, I'm sendin' bodies to their graves
I'm the proof to the theory that white men come from caves

Opposite of pacifist, if you Catholic I'm like a nun with a ruler
Slappin' ya wrist,
I'm hazardous when I'm packing the cannon
I'm back in this bitch, Rugged Man, is he man or a myth?
Is he baggin' ya chick, is he punchin' or is his stamina sick?
Buck he always stayed street, I was down with Buck in the early 90's
When he was puttin' sleigh bells in every beat

I'm like do that, ya hookers for cover cause I'm like more than high-strung
I get slightly dumb, how many styles have I begun? Come on!

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