Wrath Prophecy lyrics by Doap Nixon - original song full text. Official Wrath Prophecy lyrics, 2019 version | LyricsMode.com
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Doap Nixon – Wrath Prophecy lyrics
I could talk bitches out of they jeans
Gold diggers out of they cream
Little wannabe rap motherfuckers out of they dreams
I'm slick, I could talk a hustler out of his fiends
I rap so hot, the water in my spit becomes steam
I'm like a pound of uncut coke when hittin' the scene
Y'all are powder particles that trickled off the triple beam
Stop trippin', little chicken, I ain't payin', I'm pimpin'
If ya waitin' for trickin' then you should date a magician
Wake up and listen, and keep this in the back of your mind
My thoughts are heavy, the weight alone could fracture your spine
Cats swear to God they high, hearin' Apathy's rhymes
And hold a torch up to trees like the back of a dime
These little backpack faggots probably jacked my lines
But like divorce with no prenup, half of it's mine
Y'all are just bitches (Esoterodactyl got morgues to fill)
While Ap's on a mission to make green like clorophyll

My team drops bread like chicks on health kicks
Ya squad could rock Bird throwbacks and couldn't "sell ticks"
I melt shit with the words I spit
Steven King, disturbed and sick
You know Shay's killin' rappers that be speakin' on their dealin' coke days
Only birds you ever flipped was due to road rage
Only gray you ever pushed was due to old age
Bomb grower? Nah dude, the only weed you ever moved was with lawn mowers
You ain't traffickin' shit
No package in the back of the whip
No gats, no clips, why you rockin' that watch still?
Only archeologists check for iced-out Fossils
Is this a vintage affair? Them Jordans isn't that rare
Plus they so dingy they resemble my original pair
Servin' AotP? That'd be a head trip
Like a Cali-bred Crip rockin' Cincinnatti Reds shit

Y'all tryin' to put a crease in the cards
Everybody want a piece of the gods
Y'all tryin' to put a crease in the cards
Everybody want a piece of the gods

I spit spontaneously, insane on a beat
Gigantic with the rap, I throw a flame in the street
Nothin' less than a professor manifestin' the heat
So hot, I don't even bring a piece when I beef
Rappers shot, make your casket drop
Pass the block, and get your ass beat down, we laugh and watch
And it's funny how we throw a rubber band on a knot
Smack you in the face with it and let you have it to shop
And the reason that you bleedin', you disrespected a demon
Cryin' like little bitches or newborns that's teething
We urban gorillas workin' with killers
Bow and arrows from the Pharaohs, dog you heard what the deal is
We the realest and you feel us 'cause you probably been through it
Suicidal rap, nigga, cut your skin to it
And shit don't matter if you die or live through it
We beat you 'till you piss bluish, hit you with sick fluid

I never aim to please, get cut quick, gone with the breeze
And post up, sparkin' my trees
Like it never happened, the captain of fly rappin'
Attackin' with war tactics and write it down in fine graphics
Cause havoc, my "mobb's deep," gun butt, you now sleep
Your funeral be in a week, I dare you to creep
Pack ridiculous heat from sweepin' the streets
The tech nine to your meat, chopper bringin' defeat
To any one who oppose these assholes' murderous flows
I'm standin' here close from breakin' your nose
The life that you chose is nothin', why keep runnin'?
Shoot, I'm gunnin', my motherfuckin' cold deeds is headhuntin'
Frontin' is a waste of time, you get money and shine
On your grind, it's all in your mind
'Cause I've never seen you holdin' a spot, callin' a shot
Pops scorchin' your flesh, you bleedin' to death
Heed these words or meet this bird, Desert
Bangin' at your heartless herbs, heartless herbs, nigga

Lyrics taken from /lyrics/d/doap_nixon/wrath_prophecy.html

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