The Shoot Out Lyrics
| Song | The Shoot Out |
| Artist | Killarmy |
| Album | Dirty Weaponry |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Bougard, Delvalle, Grant ... | |
| {movie sample, unknown man} | |
| For some warriors, the answer is crystalised in an instant, their | |
| Instincts point them only one way. the truth becomes undeniable, and | |
| Apocylptic. | |
| [dom pachino, p.r. terrorist] | |
| I got a hunger for the mic my appetite strike late at night | |
| Food for thought, hold down a fort | |
| Up in the port of riches last seen giving stitches, | |
| Grab the can by ? crucifix, his team actin superstitious, | |
| One eyein, one fakin, reachin for his iron | |
| And one tryin to get close, i got the toast | |
| And i'm firin, blood gushin, commotion | |
| Still zonin off the war potion | |
| [beretta 9] | |
| Yo wha, yo | |
| We be the masters of circuference, | |
| My thought cant behold body, mind control substance | |
| For the key to this shit, kid | |
| Examin the imposter, group of a uh-life's | |
| My team be deep like a roster, you lobster | |
| You break the edges of all the ? | |
| Cut the tongues off all the snakes | |
| Just one hiss may cost ya, the price of ya life | |
| I should always think twice, remember always think twice | |
| Because mistake may be comin away kid | |
| So wake the fuck up, yo wake the fuck up, yo | |
| [islord] | |
| Aiyoo, straight up and down | |
| Dont even bring that type of shit around me | |
| You live get ya whole neck slapped off ya shoulders | |
| Quick fast, faster than the eye blink, so why think | |
| You could live amongst the, livest mc's | |
| And d-o-d's that i run with, | |
| And collaborate my thoughts with | |
| To elevate to higher standard as i landed, | |
| But never stranded as the god p.r. terrorist apprehended | |
| Analog suspects on the set | |
| [dom pachino] | |
| Dirty doctrine, killer concoction, rhyme rottin, | |
| Stay plottin, yesterday wake, grenade shoppin | |
| Caught a nice one, grave the vest-a | |
| To track a ? that may get bloody, ugly | |
| Dippin in mud, my soldiers gonna love me | |
| Grab a mic, look into the sunshine way above me | |
| Hold my forehead, today had my daily bread | |
| Shared it with you, make sure my fans are always fed | |
| [killa sin] | |
| Yo i'm pullin wrestiln moves, | |
| My competition headlocked into submission, | |
| While shots are lickin | |
| Pickin through crops of intuition, | |
| Yo my brain starts to change shorts are strange (what) | |
| Names brought in vain, court physical force of unexplained | |
| For the battle of my life in the night light | |
| This nigga grab a mic tight | |
| Strike with a flash of dynamite, right | |
| So figure this, killa get vigorous | |
| A lyricist supremicist attackin the track like ? of villages | |
| Run, we still pillagin dunn |
| zuo qu : Bougard, Delvalle, Grant ... | |
| movie sample, unknown man | |
| For some warriors, the answer is crystalised in an instant, their | |
| Instincts point them only one way. the truth becomes undeniable, and | |
| Apocylptic. | |
| dom pachino, p. r. terrorist | |
| I got a hunger for the mic my appetite strike late at night | |
| Food for thought, hold down a fort | |
| Up in the port of riches last seen giving stitches, | |
| Grab the can by ? crucifix, his team actin superstitious, | |
| One eyein, one fakin, reachin for his iron | |
| And one tryin to get close, i got the toast | |
| And i' m firin, blood gushin, commotion | |
| Still zonin off the war potion | |
| beretta 9 | |
| Yo wha, yo | |
| We be the masters of circuference, | |
| My thought cant behold body, mind control substance | |
| For the key to this shit, kid | |
| Examin the imposter, group of a uhlife' s | |
| My team be deep like a roster, you lobster | |
| You break the edges of all the ? | |
| Cut the tongues off all the snakes | |
| Just one hiss may cost ya, the price of ya life | |
| I should always think twice, remember always think twice | |
| Because mistake may be comin away kid | |
| So wake the fuck up, yo wake the fuck up, yo | |
| islord | |
| Aiyoo, straight up and down | |
| Dont even bring that type of shit around me | |
| You live get ya whole neck slapped off ya shoulders | |
| Quick fast, faster than the eye blink, so why think | |
| You could live amongst the, livest mc' s | |
| And dod' s that i run with, | |
| And collaborate my thoughts with | |
| To elevate to higher standard as i landed, | |
| But never stranded as the god p. r. terrorist apprehended | |
| Analog suspects on the set | |
| dom pachino | |
| Dirty doctrine, killer concoction, rhyme rottin, | |
| Stay plottin, yesterday wake, grenade shoppin | |
| Caught a nice one, grave the vesta | |
| To track a ? that may get bloody, ugly | |
| Dippin in mud, my soldiers gonna love me | |
| Grab a mic, look into the sunshine way above me | |
| Hold my forehead, today had my daily bread | |
| Shared it with you, make sure my fans are always fed | |
| killa sin | |
| Yo i' m pullin wrestiln moves, | |
| My competition headlocked into submission, | |
| While shots are lickin | |
| Pickin through crops of intuition, | |
| Yo my brain starts to change shorts are strange what | |
| Names brought in vain, court physical force of unexplained | |
| For the battle of my life in the night light | |
| This nigga grab a mic tight | |
| Strike with a flash of dynamite, right | |
| So figure this, killa get vigorous | |
| A lyricist supremicist attackin the track like ? of villages | |
| Run, we still pillagin dunn |
| zuò qǔ : Bougard, Delvalle, Grant ... | |
| movie sample, unknown man | |
| For some warriors, the answer is crystalised in an instant, their | |
| Instincts point them only one way. the truth becomes undeniable, and | |
| Apocylptic. | |
| dom pachino, p. r. terrorist | |
| I got a hunger for the mic my appetite strike late at night | |
| Food for thought, hold down a fort | |
| Up in the port of riches last seen giving stitches, | |
| Grab the can by ? crucifix, his team actin superstitious, | |
| One eyein, one fakin, reachin for his iron | |
| And one tryin to get close, i got the toast | |
| And i' m firin, blood gushin, commotion | |
| Still zonin off the war potion | |
| beretta 9 | |
| Yo wha, yo | |
| We be the masters of circuference, | |
| My thought cant behold body, mind control substance | |
| For the key to this shit, kid | |
| Examin the imposter, group of a uhlife' s | |
| My team be deep like a roster, you lobster | |
| You break the edges of all the ? | |
| Cut the tongues off all the snakes | |
| Just one hiss may cost ya, the price of ya life | |
| I should always think twice, remember always think twice | |
| Because mistake may be comin away kid | |
| So wake the fuck up, yo wake the fuck up, yo | |
| islord | |
| Aiyoo, straight up and down | |
| Dont even bring that type of shit around me | |
| You live get ya whole neck slapped off ya shoulders | |
| Quick fast, faster than the eye blink, so why think | |
| You could live amongst the, livest mc' s | |
| And dod' s that i run with, | |
| And collaborate my thoughts with | |
| To elevate to higher standard as i landed, | |
| But never stranded as the god p. r. terrorist apprehended | |
| Analog suspects on the set | |
| dom pachino | |
| Dirty doctrine, killer concoction, rhyme rottin, | |
| Stay plottin, yesterday wake, grenade shoppin | |
| Caught a nice one, grave the vesta | |
| To track a ? that may get bloody, ugly | |
| Dippin in mud, my soldiers gonna love me | |
| Grab a mic, look into the sunshine way above me | |
| Hold my forehead, today had my daily bread | |
| Shared it with you, make sure my fans are always fed | |
| killa sin | |
| Yo i' m pullin wrestiln moves, | |
| My competition headlocked into submission, | |
| While shots are lickin | |
| Pickin through crops of intuition, | |
| Yo my brain starts to change shorts are strange what | |
| Names brought in vain, court physical force of unexplained | |
| For the battle of my life in the night light | |
| This nigga grab a mic tight | |
| Strike with a flash of dynamite, right | |
| So figure this, killa get vigorous | |
| A lyricist supremicist attackin the track like ? of villages | |
| Run, we still pillagin dunn |
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