Текст песни 7th Ghost - Army of the Pharaohs
7th
Ghost
Army
Of
The
Pharaohs
Ft:
Blacastan,
Demoz,
Doap
Nixon,
Reef
the
Lost
Cauze
& Vinnie
Paz
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views
Bring
the
light
to
the
dark,
AOTP,
yeah
I
Self,
Lord
and
Master
I′m
not
a
rapper
The
industry
been
in
a
nigga
pockets,
since
Napster
So
me
explainin'
why
I′m
still
grinding,
I
don't
have
to
I'd
sell
my
masters,
if
the
cash
come
Cause
my
girl
need
a
new
car
and
baby
need
Pampers
It′s
real
shit,
y′all
never
know
about
it
ask
us
Side
jobs
in
retail,
detail
cars
and
ride
trash
trucks
Never
complain,
we
never
had
much
The
ends
won't
justify
the
means,
it
don′t
add
up
Rap,
work,
and
sell
dope,
now
that's
a
mash-up
Kids
say
they
wanna
do
this?
I
just
crack
up
I
tell
em
stay
in
school,
fool,
you
need
a
backup
Aye-o
I′m
blowin'
brown
every
day
to
keep
the
stress
down
And
niggas
that
I
seem
to
let
′round,
they
always
let
down
So
I'm
building
a
bunch
of
young
niggas
like
Brett
Brown
They
all
ballers,
keeping
niggas
in
check
so
when
I
Big
up
my
set
I'm
paying
homage
to
Pharaohs
And
when
you
hear
me
spit,
acknowledge
my
vowels
It′s
probably
foul
I
never
change
the
language
for
change
It′s
slang
written
Half
my
life
gambling
heists
to
keep
that
thing
with
'em
Suplex
mangler,
but
it′s
a
cold
word
baby
So
I'm
a
North
Face
and
Cumberland
whore
chasin′
So
knuckle
up
or
get
cutted
up
Or
smacked
with
the
butt
of
the
gun,
buttercup
For
trying
to
fuck
with
us
Who
dumb
enough
to
try
one
of
us?
We
peelin'
your
girl
off
the
grill
of
a
Hummer
truck,
when
the
sun
come
up
Who
one
of
us?
Raise
your
face
to
the
skies
And
watch
the
mortals
make
way
for
the
return
of
the
Gods
Pharaohs
AOTP
cock
the
latch
back
clack
clack
OPG
got
the
straps
in
the
back
pack
Bodies
in
the
trunk
of
the
′96
hatch-back
Punch
you
in
the
face,
slap
your
man
out
his
snap
back
I'm
John
Allen
Muhammad
living
out
of
a
van
Picking
off
bystanders
with
a
rifle
in
hand
I'm
demented,
I′m
a
couple
cards
short
of
a
full
deck
I′m
a
liar,
I'm
the
charismatic
man
in
a
pulpit
I′m
AOTP,
Demigods,
JMT
A
faith
healer,
healing
through
death
on
CD
I
am
not
a
role
model,
you
should
raise
your
own
kids
(come
on)
I'm
a
dirty
rap
nigga
with
fruit
flies
in
my
crib
I′m
strange,
I'm
deranged,
I′m
fascinated
with
death
I
chain
smoke
cigarettes,
I
got
terrible
breath
The
show's
almost
over,
only
two
songs
left
So
cop
a
T-shirt,
find
the
exit
and
step
nigga
Aye-o
fuck
being
a
good
person
I'm
in
the
hood
workin′
Smoking
shit
to
numb
my
pain
I
don′t
know
if
you
could
nurse
him
Doctors
can't
figure
out
what
to
do
with
him
Once
upon
a
time,
he
used
to
have
screws
in
him
Now
Lucifer
let
loose
in
me
They
not
used
to
me
I′m
not
what
I
used
to
be
I
used
to
be
a
young
nigga,
silly
state
of
mind
Now
I'm
just
a
nigga
going
crazy
like
he
facing
time
(uhh)
I′m
from
the
hood
where
the
young
die
If
you
don't
lay
low,
you
get
hung
high
Nigga
I
lay
low,
and
still
hang
high
In
my
head,
shit
only
hit
the
fan
when
your
man
die
I
take
a
sip
of
this
liquor
inspired
with
hearses
Nobody
surviving,
I
smoke
my
weed
out
of
Bible
verses
Inspire
churches
to
sin,
what?
I
inspire
churches
to
bring
niggas
like
me
in,
clear
of
my
sins
but
Why
would
you
ever
try
to
be
god
with
me?
Why
would
you
bother
me,
why
don′t
you
ever
see
prophecy?
Possibly
honestly,
Sodom,
Gomorrah
atrocity
Mephistopheles
at
the
door
to
door,
a
monopoly
Why
would
you
lie
to
me?
Why
would
you
see
the
Allah
in
me?
Am
I
the
only
one
who
see
comedy
in
monogamy?
I
lay
back,
eat
mozzarella
and
sliced
swordfish
Put
my
feet
up
on
the
table
in
my
nice
office
Black
mask,
black
millimeter,
white
Porsches
Every
single
rhyme
Vinnie
write,
type
gorgeous
Hahahahaha
listen,
Pistolero
Pazzie
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