Airborne Rangers - Souls Of Mischief

Rap slash out these battleship torpedoes that’ll rip through

your fragile ego, ransack your evil empire like I was Genghis

The Khan/con artist, fiendish, on target, laser beam shift

Trackin your movements like The Pentagon

Disarm the meanest lookin studio prankster

Endangered, we airborne rangers with the broken language

Absorbin blows every game I strength (What…)

The Chinese connection game of death

You might see me in the reflection in the chain on his neck

Controllin these mics while he aimin his Tek

Couldn’t even hold it still cos his hands was all wet

Said we a threat cos we the heaviest

And with a strobe light in his progress you’ll never be fresh

You can’t murderlise a survivalist

Fool we thrive on this shit, the third eye is too swift

All we gotta do is provide the music, ugh

Don’t need a Lac on Deez to make your bitch hop on my lap

and lap on these, lavishin please don’t tease

To all these way-below-average MCs

You gon’stay below, don’t wish, that’s just how it’s gon’be

My style is on levels unattainable, recyclable and reusable

but not biodegradable so don’t confuse em They last eternal, evil gas that’s acid turned

When I spit it, unmatched fashion over da riddim

Unabashedly, leave sights only extreme sides of gassing

Mic mastery, necessary steps to make you genuflect

I reflect the genuine and accept

nothing less than your respect in excess

I wasn’t expecting the success that I met

When I grabbed my shit and left command

Won’t let it get too ahead, I got a check on that

Check you spice rack, it’s certain elements you lack

We combust when we contact

Come correct with the contract

Show respect when we stomp packs

You get cut for the combat

Got the specs of your launchpad

Snatch ya bitch when we rock that

Interception, she out back

Undressed off the tw&sack, blessed off the cognac

Take her back, we don’t want that, no not that

I don’t rap for the money but I’m lovin that it pays well

Sometimes I kick a strange tale, make your brain swell

Souls tighter than lifers sittin in the same cell

I never listen to the drama that a dame sell

I’m tryin to make that mail so I sought the game well

I know the spell from the rattle of a snake’s tail

When a hard nigga spray and the enemies l&ale

I’m witta female that was waitin, make her exhale

I’m Double X-L like the magazine is And fuck the drugs but I can show you what a rappin fiend is Perhaps my team is NOT the type to act the meanest

but on my birth, you’re just a falling Earth, you gettin smacked to Venus

Stings are jackin the penis so your label accept

cos you ain’t able to rap or able to wreck

I’m claimin respect with rappin that’ll strangle your neck

Claim you’re a vet but still I’m makin you jet, shakin the set

I’m unique with this on three hundred and fifty cubic inches

of horse-powered fuel injection, positive traction

Throttlin action, my prerogative’s idlin

Mind bogglin speed tobogganin streets of Oakland

Old English Old English, the kingpin

Swingin like Charlie Miggetts,

high wire torch, swallowin, spine tinglin

Break your vertebrae’s with permanent turnicans

Firm burn your sternum like nerve gas and germ, warfare

Hor, d’oerve you serve, your Sequoia Heights in Stirling

Minted, quartered your terms is centric

Circumventin the industry

While your fate remains in the chains of imagery portrayed

And mass media hype, we smash media rights through mics

Crack through the core at the speed of the light

I’m ???

???

???, graffiti on mics

The beaters are white, forever sweet and precise for me to ignite

UGH!

We combust when we contact

So come correct with the contract

Show respect when we stomp packs

You get cut for the combat

Got the specs of your launchpad

Snatch ya bitch when we rock that

Interception, she out back

Undressed off the tw&sack, blessed off the cognac

Take her back, we don’t want that, no not that

Never that

We combust when we contact

So come correct with the contract

Show respect when we stomp packs

You get cut for the combat

Got the specs of your launchpad

Snatch ya bitch when we rock that

Interception, she out back

Undressed off the tw&sack, blessed off the cognac

Take her back, we don’t want that, no not that, ugh