Swinging Swords Lyrics
| Song | Swinging Swords |
| Artist | Killarmy |
| Album | Silent Weapons for Quiet Wars |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Bougard, DelValle, Grant ... | |
| These rhythms can't deface me | |
| Hot rhythms stimulate me | |
| Can't help but swing it boy | |
| Swing it brother swing | |
| Don't stop the beat that's | |
| Slapped this foolish brat | |
| Come on swing me boys | |
| Swing it brother swing | |
| Word up, let's take 'em to war, son | |
| Show 'em how it should be done | |
| It's real god | |
| Yeah, yeah | |
| Stimulate the brain cells | |
| Check it, check it | |
| Yo killarmy bounty killers | |
| Industry kid shivers | |
| Shells up through your liver | |
| Dead corp float the rivers | |
| Murderous style is superior from shaolin to nigeria | |
| Stalking through the monitor | |
| With the wisdom for dynamical fessor (?) | |
| Lyrical kid in processor | |
| Nat turner was my militant ancestor | |
| I capture your mind put in isolation | |
| Control the soul automation | |
| Victims became mechanical slaves again | |
| Read the east coast historian | |
| As you oppose this | |
| Your walking dead soldiers can't get close to this | |
| I be splitting shit like moses | |
| Then celebrate with guns 'n roses | |
| I turn soundtracks into startracks | |
| My tongue is symbolic to an axe | |
| I used to be caught up in the world of mad max | |
| Now come against the consequence of the 9th prince | |
| I sit upon my throne and chop off domes | |
| Then send them home to your peoples | |
| So they can sew 'em | |
| Thoughts i generate like high forms of energy | |
| My brain's energetic | |
| Ultramagnetic synthetic | |
| Burn like oil | |
| High octane let it drain upon the shaolin soil | |
| You get trapped inside my rap coils | |
| Like my phalanges rip the microphone | |
| When i recite a war poem | |
| It's writen in my soldier's log | |
| It's a killarmy espionage | |
| Puerto rican mobster in camouflage | |
| Perform at the mirage my entourage | |
| Get the ticket through telecharge as i massage lyrics get enlarged | |
| Grenade particles rip through your fatigue articles | |
| You flee for shelter | |
| My tre pound rounds'll melt you | |
| Like camouflage vinyl in the force of delta | |
| What, what, one time | |
| Come on, swing it | |
| Bring it, what | |
| Killarm, yeah, swing it | |
| The gods gonna bring it | |
| Real, what | |
| Yo, yo | |
| You either get down shut the fuck up or catch an uppercut | |
| Rough enough to muffle up your jaw when we knuckle up | |
| Knuckle what? bacardi hit me harder than you | |
| You crash dummies show respect when the gods is coming through | |
| Eyes swollen up the size of coconuts | |
| Your body folding up | |
| Allah the soldier struck and through the cut i walk and hold you up | |
| Sit back hang from your hip like loose kani's | |
| Try to flip it on the strength of your wis' and let you slide | |
| Savage eighty five trying to test sides | |
| True we're living thirty two shots | |
| We're sending a rocket to your prison | |
| Caught you bubbling | |
| Like a cold sore the money coming in | |
| Juggling the church and street life you got me wonderng and catch 'em | |
| I let allah bless 'em | |
| That's the question | |
| You dealing with a madman's profession | |
| So choose your weapon | |
| Word up, killarmy | |
| Taking y'all to another war ground | |
| Hold down the battlefield, word up | |
| Shout outs to all my universal soldiers | |
| Killarmy, word up | |
| Deep space 9, the clan, word up | |
| Sunz of man | |
| My nigga high style, word up | |
| To all the soldiers in all the fifty two planets | |
| New york, ohio | |
| Philadelphia, word up | |
| My anna locked down atlanta, for real | |
| Little rock, miami | |
| Pittsburgh, word up | |
| Washington d.c., upstate for real | |
| To all my juvenile niggas that's locked up in tober center | |
| Word up, ryker's island | |
| Peace to big queen (?) and supreme | |
| Word up the god and general wise | |
| General wah | |
| Word up to the last soldiers | |
| My nigga islord still locked down in the jungle, son | |
| Word up keep your sword up son, killarmy gonna represent this shit, son | |
| Word up, peace | |
| Get out of here | |
| Peace |
| zuo qu : Bougard, DelValle, Grant ... | |
| These rhythms can' t deface me | |
| Hot rhythms stimulate me | |
| Can' t help but swing it boy | |
| Swing it brother swing | |
| Don' t stop the beat that' s | |
| Slapped this foolish brat | |
| Come on swing me boys | |
| Swing it brother swing | |
| Word up, let' s take ' em to war, son | |
| Show ' em how it should be done | |
| It' s real god | |
| Yeah, yeah | |
| Stimulate the brain cells | |
| Check it, check it | |
| Yo killarmy bounty killers | |
| Industry kid shivers | |
| Shells up through your liver | |
| Dead corp float the rivers | |
| Murderous style is superior from shaolin to nigeria | |
| Stalking through the monitor | |
| With the wisdom for dynamical fessor ? | |
| Lyrical kid in processor | |
| Nat turner was my militant ancestor | |
| I capture your mind put in isolation | |
| Control the soul automation | |
| Victims became mechanical slaves again | |
| Read the east coast historian | |
| As you oppose this | |
| Your walking dead soldiers can' t get close to this | |
| I be splitting shit like moses | |
| Then celebrate with guns ' n roses | |
| I turn soundtracks into startracks | |
| My tongue is symbolic to an axe | |
| I used to be caught up in the world of mad max | |
| Now come against the consequence of the 9th prince | |
| I sit upon my throne and chop off domes | |
| Then send them home to your peoples | |
| So they can sew ' em | |
| Thoughts i generate like high forms of energy | |
| My brain' s energetic | |
| Ultramagnetic synthetic | |
| Burn like oil | |
| High octane let it drain upon the shaolin soil | |
| You get trapped inside my rap coils | |
| Like my phalanges rip the microphone | |
| When i recite a war poem | |
| It' s writen in my soldier' s log | |
| It' s a killarmy espionage | |
| Puerto rican mobster in camouflage | |
| Perform at the mirage my entourage | |
| Get the ticket through telecharge as i massage lyrics get enlarged | |
| Grenade particles rip through your fatigue articles | |
| You flee for shelter | |
| My tre pound rounds' ll melt you | |
| Like camouflage vinyl in the force of delta | |
| What, what, one time | |
| Come on, swing it | |
| Bring it, what | |
| Killarm, yeah, swing it | |
| The gods gonna bring it | |
| Real, what | |
| Yo, yo | |
| You either get down shut the fuck up or catch an uppercut | |
| Rough enough to muffle up your jaw when we knuckle up | |
| Knuckle what? bacardi hit me harder than you | |
| You crash dummies show respect when the gods is coming through | |
| Eyes swollen up the size of coconuts | |
| Your body folding up | |
| Allah the soldier struck and through the cut i walk and hold you up | |
| Sit back hang from your hip like loose kani' s | |
| Try to flip it on the strength of your wis' and let you slide | |
| Savage eighty five trying to test sides | |
| True we' re living thirty two shots | |
| We' re sending a rocket to your prison | |
| Caught you bubbling | |
| Like a cold sore the money coming in | |
| Juggling the church and street life you got me wonderng and catch ' em | |
| I let allah bless ' em | |
| That' s the question | |
| You dealing with a madman' s profession | |
| So choose your weapon | |
| Word up, killarmy | |
| Taking y' all to another war ground | |
| Hold down the battlefield, word up | |
| Shout outs to all my universal soldiers | |
| Killarmy, word up | |
| Deep space 9, the clan, word up | |
| Sunz of man | |
| My nigga high style, word up | |
| To all the soldiers in all the fifty two planets | |
| New york, ohio | |
| Philadelphia, word up | |
| My anna locked down atlanta, for real | |
| Little rock, miami | |
| Pittsburgh, word up | |
| Washington d. c., upstate for real | |
| To all my juvenile niggas that' s locked up in tober center | |
| Word up, ryker' s island | |
| Peace to big queen ? and supreme | |
| Word up the god and general wise | |
| General wah | |
| Word up to the last soldiers | |
| My nigga islord still locked down in the jungle, son | |
| Word up keep your sword up son, killarmy gonna represent this shit, son | |
| Word up, peace | |
| Get out of here | |
| Peace |
| zuò qǔ : Bougard, DelValle, Grant ... | |
| These rhythms can' t deface me | |
| Hot rhythms stimulate me | |
| Can' t help but swing it boy | |
| Swing it brother swing | |
| Don' t stop the beat that' s | |
| Slapped this foolish brat | |
| Come on swing me boys | |
| Swing it brother swing | |
| Word up, let' s take ' em to war, son | |
| Show ' em how it should be done | |
| It' s real god | |
| Yeah, yeah | |
| Stimulate the brain cells | |
| Check it, check it | |
| Yo killarmy bounty killers | |
| Industry kid shivers | |
| Shells up through your liver | |
| Dead corp float the rivers | |
| Murderous style is superior from shaolin to nigeria | |
| Stalking through the monitor | |
| With the wisdom for dynamical fessor ? | |
| Lyrical kid in processor | |
| Nat turner was my militant ancestor | |
| I capture your mind put in isolation | |
| Control the soul automation | |
| Victims became mechanical slaves again | |
| Read the east coast historian | |
| As you oppose this | |
| Your walking dead soldiers can' t get close to this | |
| I be splitting shit like moses | |
| Then celebrate with guns ' n roses | |
| I turn soundtracks into startracks | |
| My tongue is symbolic to an axe | |
| I used to be caught up in the world of mad max | |
| Now come against the consequence of the 9th prince | |
| I sit upon my throne and chop off domes | |
| Then send them home to your peoples | |
| So they can sew ' em | |
| Thoughts i generate like high forms of energy | |
| My brain' s energetic | |
| Ultramagnetic synthetic | |
| Burn like oil | |
| High octane let it drain upon the shaolin soil | |
| You get trapped inside my rap coils | |
| Like my phalanges rip the microphone | |
| When i recite a war poem | |
| It' s writen in my soldier' s log | |
| It' s a killarmy espionage | |
| Puerto rican mobster in camouflage | |
| Perform at the mirage my entourage | |
| Get the ticket through telecharge as i massage lyrics get enlarged | |
| Grenade particles rip through your fatigue articles | |
| You flee for shelter | |
| My tre pound rounds' ll melt you | |
| Like camouflage vinyl in the force of delta | |
| What, what, one time | |
| Come on, swing it | |
| Bring it, what | |
| Killarm, yeah, swing it | |
| The gods gonna bring it | |
| Real, what | |
| Yo, yo | |
| You either get down shut the fuck up or catch an uppercut | |
| Rough enough to muffle up your jaw when we knuckle up | |
| Knuckle what? bacardi hit me harder than you | |
| You crash dummies show respect when the gods is coming through | |
| Eyes swollen up the size of coconuts | |
| Your body folding up | |
| Allah the soldier struck and through the cut i walk and hold you up | |
| Sit back hang from your hip like loose kani' s | |
| Try to flip it on the strength of your wis' and let you slide | |
| Savage eighty five trying to test sides | |
| True we' re living thirty two shots | |
| We' re sending a rocket to your prison | |
| Caught you bubbling | |
| Like a cold sore the money coming in | |
| Juggling the church and street life you got me wonderng and catch ' em | |
| I let allah bless ' em | |
| That' s the question | |
| You dealing with a madman' s profession | |
| So choose your weapon | |
| Word up, killarmy | |
| Taking y' all to another war ground | |
| Hold down the battlefield, word up | |
| Shout outs to all my universal soldiers | |
| Killarmy, word up | |
| Deep space 9, the clan, word up | |
| Sunz of man | |
| My nigga high style, word up | |
| To all the soldiers in all the fifty two planets | |
| New york, ohio | |
| Philadelphia, word up | |
| My anna locked down atlanta, for real | |
| Little rock, miami | |
| Pittsburgh, word up | |
| Washington d. c., upstate for real | |
| To all my juvenile niggas that' s locked up in tober center | |
| Word up, ryker' s island | |
| Peace to big queen ? and supreme | |
| Word up the god and general wise | |
| General wah | |
| Word up to the last soldiers | |
| My nigga islord still locked down in the jungle, son | |
| Word up keep your sword up son, killarmy gonna represent this shit, son | |
| Word up, peace | |
| Get out of here | |
| Peace |
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