Lyrics The Summer of Sam - Motive , Esoteric , Ryu , Celph Titled , Apathy , Blacastan

Hello from the gutters of New York City which are filled with dog manure, vomit, stale wine, urine and blood. I am still here. Like a spirit roaming the night: thirsty

Hey yo pump up the jam, it's the summer of Sam
I got a pen in my hand, scribbling a pentagram
I'm the founding forefather, Masonic book author
Midnight marauder that's harder than Sergeant Slaughter

Graphic novelist, Frank Miller, serial killer
Drive tanks through your metropolis, I simply think iller
My cold flows make you shiver like zombies in Thriller
Mike jack move, we demigodzillas

Hey yo I'm slicker than Zorro, Nicky Santoro
Rhymes sharp enough to split a man at his torso
Operation omega, searching every bodega
Looking for the Doe Raker, Demigod soul takers

It's ya boy Big Motive, DGZ
Flow's a deadly poison, BBD
But far from Mike Bivins, the god is trife livin'
Might run up in your crib to rob with night vision
It's the (son of Sam)

So pull the trigger tight my friend
And them bullets will go right to your chin
Malfunction 'cause I modified the firing pin
Sabotage anybody who conspire to win
I'm sniping 'em man...

Ryu, my mama call me Ryan Maginn
The son of Randal and Sam is my Siamese twin
We rubber gripping the summer
Banana clip if you slippin'
I put that 100 round drum in
And light your house up like Christmas
Ugh

Pump! Pump the jam!
This is summer of Sam, run around with a gun in my hand
So just pump it, just pump it, just pump it, just pump it up
Pump! Pump the jam!
This is summer of Sam, run around, .44 in my hand
So just pump it, just pump it, just pump it, just pump it up

Ap's feared like Blackbeard appeared in your telescope
You could see the city burn and you smell the smoke
See me rocking a mask like a lucha libre
Walk up during your set and shoot your DJ

Knife fight, chess box, black and white squares
Throw spears that's sharper than Rothstein in the Tangiers
New school fake thugs squeeling like old stairs
I throw slugs that'll end your careers

I've reinvented the category for rappers that battle gory
I'm all heart, Tony Stark invest in my laboratory
And finding me smack dab right next to a black lab
They saying Eso kill 'em all and put 'em in trash bags

Every verse I spit I'm trying to murder shit
Till the Summ' of Mas like I'm David Berkowitz
Listen, I'm on a mission to fill in the void missin'
'Cause any track I touch: needing a mortician

Jealousy and envy lurk so since I might be shot
My car got bulletproof glass like the Chinese spot (what!?)
Me and Sheila feeling Sharon sharin' at The Sheraton
You might stay holding the crown but I'm wearing it

Yeah, you can't tell if a freedom fighter's a terrorist
'Cause my closet kinda resemble TI Harris'
Choppers on the floor, cash stuffed in Louie luggage
So I ain't even gotta act tough: the Uzi does it

Pump! Pump the jam!
This is summer of Sam, run around with a gun in my hand
So just pump it, just pump it, just pump it, just pump it up
Pump! Pump the jam!
This is summer of Sam, run around, .44 in my hand
So just pump it, just pump it, just pump it, just pump it up