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stronghold - hectic lyrics
[intro (overlapped with hook): poison pen]
stronghold. yo. crystal lake style. yo. nyc. yo. new jersey. yo. poison pen, wiz, breez evahflowin’, stelf index, c-rayz walz. stronghold sh-t
[hook: breez evahflowin’ and stelf index]
this be the stake through the heart
the arrow in your chest
the stab in your back
and the slash on your neck
the cash on your check, b-tch
with the best sh-t
out of control, stronghold, sh-t is hectic
[verse 1: poison pen]
my fists is insanely promiscuous
that means they’ll f-ck anyone up feeling adventurous
spit millenniums off a time capsule
when they unearth the mayor, they’ll say them turn-of-the-century cats is -ssh0l-s
born from my own ashes—dark phoenix
knew your album was blah by the tenth skip, eighth guest appearance
and your fourth remix. y’all can’t see stronghold’s secrets
how we outshine shows without no sequence
y’all b-tch n-ggas like vanessa’s sequins
ninety percent dance ‘cause life only did ten
love the sound of my name: p-p-pen pen (poison!)
baby loving the eyes, stun in the smooth jam
lékan came to town—now n-ggas is moving
and we jump ‘em when it come to wampum
back of the head brick sh-t
shish kebab you with a stronghold skit
[verse 2: c-rayz walz]
yo, i pull your heart out your chest like a pagan trinket
wipe up spills with the organ you think with
f-ck backup—i ain’t five-o. i attack, flow
prove and show i’m stronghold 5, yo
stronghold. remember the name, keep yelling it
strange like purple smurfs, circle earth like magellan kids
catch me wrestling elephants in tenements
a good life, antimins with cinnamon—simple them
wack mcs yell, “censor him.” entering
i move swift like ninja swim, injuring
pseudo-pros pose battle stance
cold winter wars cause avalanche dance
get down, son
perfect—bonus in round 1
[hook: breez evahflowin’ and stelf index]
this be the stake through the heart
the arrow in your chest
the stab in your back
and the slash on your neck
the cash on your check, b-tch
with the best sh-t
out of control, stronghold, sh-t is hectic
[verse 3: stelf index]
in the evening, your odds are no escape. verbal lunatic
wild at high noon—call me “solartic”
bright star kap-erlaris. polarity pull chariots
you lose grip, catch callouses
guaranteed to get amped like looters at the audio shops, sn-tch the call
never collapse—we adapt, like to ball
cap/kap cats old western style—never empty
busting on tracks so much, my nuts empty
danger i glide. never lied down, never lied
don’t get high (why?). guess a lack of orbit
freedom or the gas face, taste makes tongue numb
cash and dreams don’t play games no more like no thumbs
[verse 4: breez evahflowin’]
n-ggas can be bigger than three beefcake brutuses
mics is eye to eye—swing breaks to break your foolishness
taking all this sh-t from y’all critics
“‘cause if ‘refined’ wasn’t refined, then he shouldn’t have did it”
f-ck it—it’s done. my mic c-ck back, busting a ton
battle over dumbing odds like a dozen to one
f-ck the price. if he ain’t nice, i ain’t blessing
i’m hitting while they’re stressing, bullsh-tting on his session
diss you in the physical, dismiss you in the essence
amateur standing out when confronted with my presence
the evah present evah rock effervescence
the evah dope—evah don’t ever be contested (evahflowin’)
not the breeze from the prince of thieves
a different entent-ty to the winds of deeds
‘til it be when don’t i wanna get up and start spitting
i’mma bark like the spite of a narc and spark missions
[hook: breez evahflowin’ and stelf index]
this be the stake through the heart
the arrow in your chest
the stab in your back
and the slash on your neck
the cash on your check, b-tch
with the best sh-t
out of control, stronghold, sh-t is hectic
[verse 5: l.i.f.e. long]
see, we aerial mcs suspended in air with a dynamic wingspan
these soon-to-be gigantic godzilla figures in j-pan
bubbling up under but above these renowned gods of thunder
who changes the weather from winter to summer in the middle of december on the streets?
blasting at centaurs fronting in gods’ clothing
run off stage. we ain’t moving ‘til after this skit—until then, we remain in formation, posing
hoping the sound man got the mic levels right when we live and direct, strongholding
we live and die for this
even though the industry got us feeling quits
but our mouths ain’t dry—we forever spit
nonstop, long-winded, taking out crews ben-grimm-style—it’s clobbering time
you getting swung on by cemented fists, the live five
knocking out cats in increments of nine
while stealing greens and honey-dipped cognac cigars at the bar, getting blind
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