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spitty records – world war iv lyrics

[verse 1: satwikiwiki]
boy just arrived, open up the curtains
bout to spit fire, gonna leave this place burnin’
better watch out, spit poison like a serpent
better back up, before i make you my servent
you never expected me to rap, yeah i know it’s scary
cause i’m a dark horse, call me katy perry
put the rap game to rest in the cemetary
flow so smooth you would think it’s hereditary
trynna stay focused on the vision
while i’m here, let me give you some free tuition
keep your mind on the motherf-cking mission, that’s just a given
blow your head off, like a terrible circ-mcision
i know, that was a dope rhyme
you felt this sh-t up and down yo’ spine
left ya’ speechless boy, just like a mime
but that was it, it’s the end of my time

[hook: gunna g]
oh no, there they go
cryin’ on the bleachers, now everybody know
daddy said “son why you feelin’ so low?”
i said “yo, them boys started world war iv”, whoa
world war iv, whoa
world war iv, whoa
what happened to the one before tho?
f-ck it, we don’t know

[verse 2: ramish]
ah ah
walk through the valley, to the devils throne
seein’ my ex b-tch callin’ up my phone
got no dogs, b-tch, i am alone
me and my bands like a dog and his bone
got your girl on her knees, and she bout to blow
don’t go too fast baby, take it slow
if your man call you home, say “no, no, n- no”
archit in the cut, so let’s go

[verse 3: chi]
i’m off with this sh-t, and got with a b-tch
these hoes around ain’t bring me down
stay minimal, biblical, loyal, lyrical
this sh-t is cl-ssified, way too organized
come at me, and get electrified
leave a b-tch petrified, hypnotized and paralyzed
people sayin’ i’ve changed, but it’s the lifestyle
this some cheap packagin’, they some fake rappers
coppin’ these clips (yeah)
poppin’ these mags (yeah)
droppin’ these f-gs
in nothin’ but body bag (yeah) (uh)
i’m still goin’ off on the beat (f-ck, yeah)
like i run the streets (aye)
somebody take over this sh-t
big shaq gettin’ hot, there be too much heat
(aye) (aye) (aye) (ya) (aye) (uh) (yea)
money p please

[verse 4: maddmo0n]
and thank you
imma hafta anne frank you for actin’ up
the shank too, redemption ain’t enough
that’s red dead, i spread lead
even the feds fled
yuh, huh, even the fed exit
shippin’ packs cross the country i just fedex it
sweatin’ buckets until that b-tch delivered
push that around the map
and these rappers is my children
seen these stacks?
come to work wit’ a few million
they like how you rap i say everything my style
thinkin’ that’s vague b-tch i say that’s versatile
world war iv haven’t dropped some bombs in a while
my flow vile, and the verse hostile
(straight up)
trench warfare, why they all g-ssed up
hollow sh-lls, and cost wrapped up
get your skull bashed up for thinkin that you p-ssed us
aright f-ck it that’s enough

[verse 5: tree, maddmo0n]
fifteen i️ ain’t give a f-ck about a movement (i didn’t)
almost eighteen i’m about to put that in music (i am)
bout to buy a crib, ain’t catch a dub since i️ moved in
when i️ let my hair down, that’s when i️ cut off all the loose ends (cut, cut, cut)
like a barber, i️ have these rappers lined up
you on something if you think your corny raps define us (man)
plus you’re whack minus, the mindless sh-t you put out
hunnid rack for a new chain, homie you could’ve bought a new house (that’s true)
figured it was something obvious that you knew bout (whoa)
lookin at rollie’s, homie, but you ain’t watch your time go (real)
even if my sh-t flop tomorrow, i️ ain’t mind though (i don’t)
got so many investments, bruh, just watching mine grow (getting bigger)
days ahead of y’all like i’m f-ckin’ switching time zones
sometimes i️ put this sh-t in my car and let it ride slow (slow)
and money p made the beat too sick (madd)
ain’t no cure for the illness, homie we move quick
i️ only see the real, that’s why you a see through b-tch (where you at?)
we do sh-t y’all could never do
y’all stay fake (that’s sure)
we forever true
and just how it do (woo)
yeah

[intro: matty b raps]
you thought it was over? ha

[verse 6: jamaal]
only talk to bosses, not the second in command
n-gg-s talkin’ sh-t like they don’t know that i’m the man
first cl-ss, private jet, see you in milan
sophisticated ignorance, you know what i’m sayin’
innocence and ignorance, nothing was the same
i just want the money, y’all can have the f-ckin’ fame
even in the house, i’m wearin’ all my chains
watch the throne, the king is here, my mind ain’t nothin’ change
i’m the business man, yeah i’m the f-ckin’ the profit
god told me calm down told me gotta stop it
but i ain’t listen and bought a new chopper
my dogs on the loose, too late to f-ckin’ stop em’

[outro: brown iverson, chi, maddmo0n, (jamaal)]
or can you record it your phone?
yo, will- will a verse from him on his phone recording work?
wait, yo, how are you guys in sync?
what
(y’all got my interview is that not-)
wait
what are you ta-
what?
it’s the mic
oh, its the mic, its the mic
so i can-
what?
oh sh-t
nah we jus-
so that’s how the rappers do it
yeah
yea
you want me to turn it off or
word
wor-
aright, here we go
ight, ah

[intro 2: matt b raps (chopped and screwed)]
you thought it was over? ha

[verse 7: brown iverson]
cat in the hat
mat in the fat

[outro 2: brown iverson, chi, maddmo0n]
n-gg- what!?
k, yo yo, g- get the f-ck outta here bro, get the fu- go leave
[?]

- spitty records lyrics

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