Lyrics The Bronzeman (feat. Killa Sin) - Bronze Nazareth feat. Killa Sin
                                                (Bronze 
                                                Nazareth)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Yo, 
                                                yo, 
                                                fuck 
                                                    a 
                                                diamond, 
                                                    I 
                                                used 
                                                to 
                                                only 
                                                hit 
                                                    a 
                                                pitch 
                                                off 
                                                one
 
                                    
                                
                                                On 
                                                home 
                                                plates, 
                                                we 
                                                ball 
                                                of 
                                                the 
                                                base, 
                                                hit 
                                                it 
                                                and 
                                                run
 
                                    
                                
                                                Body 
                                                heavy 
                                                metal, 
                                                bet 
                                                    I 
                                                only 
                                                travel 
                                                on 
                                                frowning 
                                                horses
 
                                    
                                
                                                Inhale 
                                                the 
                                                forest, 
                                                fled 
                                                the 
                                                house 
                                                of 
                                                    a 
                                                thousand 
                                                corpses
 
                                    
                                
                                                Housing 
                                                my 
                                                name 
                                                in 
                                                your 
                                                mouth, 
                                                will 
                                                get 
                                                you 
                                                John 
                                                Booth′ed
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                let 
                                                myself 
                                                out 
                                                of 
                                                my 
                                                jail, 
                                                cuz 
                                                I'm 
                                                the 
                                                truth
 
                                    
                                
                                                Eyes 
                                                shimmer 
                                                like 
                                                rivers 
                                                and 
                                                broken 
                                                bottles 
                                                of 
                                                Smirnoff
 
                                    
                                
                                                Successions 
                                                of 
                                                sounds 
                                                splash 
                                                from 
                                                windows, 
                                                spilling 
                                                off
 
                                    
                                
                                                Steel 
                                                emboss 
                                                my 
                                                logo 
                                                cause 
                                                death 
                                                or 
                                                mogul′s 
                                                calls
 
                                    
                                
                                                Skin 
                                                clinks 
                                                like 
                                                18 
                                                Bronzemen 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                halls
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                seeds 
                                                of 
                                                my 
                                                cold 
                                                blood 
                                                travel 
                                                through 
                                                deep 
                                                veins
 
                                    
                                
                                                Grew 
                                                up 
                                                with 
                                                no 
                                                hands, 
                                                arms 
                                                were 
                                                spike 
                                                ball 
&                                                chain
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                hills 
                                                have 
                                                eyes, 
                                                they 
                                                saw 
                                                me 
                                                escape 
                                                the 
                                                odds
 
                                    
                                
                                                Keep 
                                                my 
                                                blowgun 
                                                shirt 
                                                or 
                                                your 
                                                back 
                                                until 
                                                you 
                                                die
 
                                    
                                
                                                Voice 
                                                squirt 
                                                cyanide, 
                                                crack 
                                                open 
                                                    a 
                                                winter 
                                                sky
 
                                    
                                
                                                For 
                                                cash, 
                                                    I 
                                                need 
                                                    a 
                                                ski 
                                                mask 
                                                and 
                                                    a 
                                                Rambo 
                                                knife
 
                                    
                                
                                                Hydro 
                                                clouds, 
                                                looks 
                                                out, 
                                                watch 
                                                the 
                                                city 
                                                rumble
 
                                    
                                
                                                From 
                                                    a 
                                                million 
                                                hunger 
                                                pains, 
                                                and 
                                                those 
                                                bees 
                                                that 
                                                bumble
 
                                    
                                
                                                I'm 
                                                filled 
                                                with 
                                                screams 
                                                that 
                                                    I 
                                                can 
                                                never 
                                                let 
                                                slip
 
                                    
                                
                                                They 
                                                say 
                                                    a 
                                                poet 
                                                and 
                                                madman 
                                                we 
                                                all 
                                                have 
                                                    a 
                                                bit
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                fuck 
                                                ya 
                                                videos, 
                                                    I 
                                                only 
                                                watch 
                                                channels, 
                                                not 
                                                the 
                                                mainstream
 
                                    
                                
                                                My 
                                                sheath 
                                                holds 
                                                cannisters 
                                                and 
                                                manuals 
                                                of 
                                                daydreams
 
                                    
                                
                                                Brita 
                                                water, 
                                                filter 
                                                slaughter, 
                                                chop 
                                                the 
                                                broccoli 
                                                sloppy
 
                                    
                                
                                                My 
                                                habit's 
                                                insane 
                                                performing 
                                                an 
                                                audio-topsy
 
                                    
                                
                                                Cotton 
                                                grown, 
                                                testosterone, 
                                                got 
                                                glocks 
                                                for 
                                                bones
 
                                    
                                
                                                Drink 
                                                    a 
                                                marsh 
                                                of 
                                                H20, 
                                                think 
                                                harsh 
                                                darts 
                                                and 
                                                throw
 
                                    
                                
                                                Maybe 
                                                blow, 
                                                poison 
                                                tips, 
                                                razor 
                                                tits
 
                                    
                                
                                                Sour 
                                                as 
                                                lemon 
                                                sticks, 
                                                my 
                                                fetish 
                                                is 
                                                wet 
                                                pussy
 
                                    
                                
                                                With 
                                                splatter 
                                                patterns, 
                                                I′m 
                                                dark 
                                                like 
                                                Rosa 
                                                Park 
                                                murders 
                                                on 
                                                the 
                                                camera 
                                                lanterns
 
                                    
                                
                                                Sharp 
                                                as 
                                                    a 
                                                thorn 
                                                on 
                                                    a 
                                                rose 
                                                from 
                                                your 
                                                ex-wife
 
                                    
                                
                                                Sly 
                                                as 
                                                    a 
                                                sleuth 
                                                for 
                                                the 
                                                slipknot 
                                                on 
                                                your 
                                                windpipe
 
                                    
                                
                                                Lynch 
                                                mic-stands, 
                                                    I 
                                                got 
                                                    a 
                                                weather-vein 
                                                mind 
                                                bend
 
                                    
                                
                                                Laugh 
                                                is 
                                                like 
                                                rubies 
                                                and 
                                                dances 
                                                on 
                                                the 
                                                vile 
                                                winds
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                live 
                                                probably 
                                                like 
                                                the 
                                                Mothman 
                                                prophecy
 
                                    
                                
                                                Ferment 
                                                like 
                                                winery, 
                                                Iliad 
                                                be 
                                                my 
                                                Oddssey
 
                                    
                                
                                                We 
                                                puff 
                                                crimson 
                                                and 
                                                drink 
                                                marble 
                                                from 
                                                lead 
                                                pipes
 
                                    
                                
                                                Run 
                                                for 
                                                daylight 
                                                like 
                                                Payton 
                                                from 
                                                jakes 
                                                on 
                                                grey 
                                                nights
 
                                    
                                
                                                When 
                                                the 
                                                blocks 
                                                hot, 
                                                    I 
                                                stand 
                                                with 
                                                my 
                                                heart 
                                                frozen
 
                                    
                                
                                                Clap 
                                                like 
                                                    a 
                                                thousand 
                                                books 
                                                closing
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                pop 
                                                loud 
                                                as 
                                                    a 
                                                thousand 
                                                rosaries 
                                                broken
 
                                    
                                
                                                Rode 
                                                gold 
                                                wind, 
                                                into 
                                                silver 
                                                clouds 
                                                of 
                                                Sativa
 
                                    
                                
                                                Word 
                                                to 
                                                Solomon, 
                                                love 
                                                Shiba 
                                                down 
                                                to 
                                                her 
                                                amoeba
 
                                    
                                
                                                (Killa 
                                                Sin)
 
                                    
                                
                                                Yo, 
                                                yo, 
                                                who 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                world 
                                                could 
                                                spit 
                                                it 
                                                like 
                                                me
 
                                    
                                
                                                Unlikely, 
                                                sheisty 
                                                for 
                                                that 
                                                mic 
                                                piece
 
                                    
                                
                                                My 
                                                Clan 
                                                keep 
                                                no 
                                                white 
                                                sheets, 
                                                wife 
                                                beaters 
&                                                Nike 
                                                sneaks
 
                                    
                                
                                                Skeetin′ 
                                                divas 
                                                who 
                                                treat 
                                                us 
                                                like, 
                                                Black 
                                                Jesus 
                                                and 
                                                feed 
                                                us
 
                                    
                                
                                                Tahitian 
                                                cleavage, 
                                                with 
                                                features 
                                                that
 
                                    
                                
                                                Keep 
                                                'em 
                                                beating 
                                                they 
                                                penis, 
                                                we 
                                                terror 
                                                predator 
                                                veterans
 
                                    
                                
                                                Trend 
                                                setters 
                                                who 
                                                better 
                                                when, 
                                                under 
                                                pressure
 
                                    
                                
                                                Cuz 
                                                better 
                                                lines, 
                                                prime 
                                                timers 
                                                like 
                                                Letterman
 
                                    
                                
                                                Dead 
                                                ya 
                                                shine 
                                                in 
                                                    a 
                                                second, 
                                                yeah, 
                                                I′m 
                                                    a 
                                                Con 
                                                and 
                                                that 
                                                Edison
 
                                    
                                
                                                Say 
                                                you 
                                                sick 
                                                with 
                                                the 
                                                rhymes, 
                                                well 
                                                then 
                                                I'mma 
                                                vomit 
                                                the 
                                                medicine
 
                                    
                                
                                                Bomb 
                                                atomic 
                                                like 
                                                Deck 
                                                over 
                                                beats 
                                                that 
                                                Impeach 
                                                the 
                                                President
 
                                    
                                
                                                Save 
                                                the 
                                                beef 
                                                for 
                                                you 
                                                freaks, 
                                                it 
                                                ain′t 
                                                nothing 
                                                sweet, 
                                                and 
                                                ain't 
                                                never 
                                                been
 
                                    
                                
                                                If 
                                                you 
                                                keep 
                                                it 
                                                at 
                                                peace, 
                                                we 
                                                won′t 
                                                have 
                                                to 
                                                level 
                                                your 
                                                residence
 
                                    
                                
                                                Better 
                                                to 
                                                chill, 
                                                nigga, 
                                                take 
                                                    a 
                                                breather, 
                                                let 
                                                it 
                                                settle 
                                                in
 
                                    
                                
                                                Need 
                                                the 
                                                speed 
                                                of 
                                                the 
                                                cheetah, 
                                                with 
                                                feet 
                                                as 
                                                    a 
                                                big 
                                                as 
                                                an 
                                                elephants
 
                                    
                                
                                                Ammo 
                                                like 
                                                John 
                                                Rambo, 
                                                to 
                                                stand 
                                                    a 
                                                chance 
                                                in 
                                                my 
                                                element
 
                                    
                                
                                                Handle 
                                                hammers 
                                                with 
                                                elegance, 
                                                damage 
                                                the 
                                                camera's 
                                                evidence
 
                                    
                                
                                                Ammo 
                                                that 
                                                dismantle 
                                                limbs, 
                                                where 
                                                you 
                                                stand 
                                                is 
                                                irrelevant
 
                                    
                                 
                            1 In the Beginning - Intro
2 The Pain
3 More Than Gold (feat. Timbo King)
4 Killa Beez Attack (Skit)
5 The Bronzeman (feat. Killa Sin)
6 One Plan (feat. Byata)
7 Instrumental Interlude
8 Stolen Van Gogh
9 5th Chamber (feat. 12:00, Sean Price & Prodigal Sunn)
10 Stupid F@#king White Man (Skit)
11 Good Morning (A Nice Hell)
12 Rare Breed (feat. Phillie)
13 Hear What I Say
14 Black Royalty
15 Detroit (feat. Phillie & Kevlaar 7)
16 $ (aka Cash Rule)
17 Poem Burial Ground
18 The Great Migration
19 Bronze Halls - Outro
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