Assassin's Creed

[Intro: Passionate MC] Yeah Ah Passionate MC Tech N9ne Yo Token! Assassins! [Verse 1: Token] Woah, woah, woah, all respect due, you not due much You don't do much, you got much to do, I do too much You got it backwards, I never take back words Throw words back 'til my back hurt, backed up, when your back turned, I'ma be back Lookin' for the chip on your shoulder, homie I'ma eat that Lot of people talkin' about me, I don't keep track Same people sending me their songs I don't keep track Click - delete that! My feedback was, "Quit", so I quit givin' feedback Kickin' my feet back thinkin' I just need to relax Shit, where the speed at? Follow me everybody, murderin' everything They callin' me Teddy Bundy industry idiots in my pockets to get the money, now bitch repeat that I'm a young kid, slash old man, slash 'oh man he go HAM', oh shit, no shit, cast that Fall back on the beat, got a beat to break then bake the beat to recreate Don't respect you if you demand a trampoline every time you take a leap of faith I take risks, take this, take that, take fans, take shit from no man No man's land where I send y'all then forget y'all, I'm against y'all Then again dog, this Token and he a full clip Can't take me, tame me or entertain me with that bullshit [Interlude] One, Two, One, Two, Three Ay [Verse 2: Tech N9ne] Yates on a great song to lay shlong, on a beat a nigga way strong Everybody tell me to pick up the pace Holmes So I gotta rip it until all my taste gone Spray zone, step into me get ya face blown Stay home, N9na 'bout to race on a bass tone That double a prone to lay clones up in the pital and they moan with a trach on I'm the poppa, not the mama, dasvidaniya When you come into my octagon, you lost mañana And I'm 'bout to pop the llama, lotta commas, put a rock upon ya Nobody want it with (K-O-D) and Token, he be on the (J-O-B) He murderin' everybody but never the Illuminati We makin' the wannabes (Say holy) (SHIT!) N9na and Token be killin' 'em, all the fear that we instill in 'em Make 'em shiver with the chill and them som' bitches Thinkin' that Tech N9ne gonna mean that the gun glitches Some crickets, what they hear in the place when I come wicked I become vicious, Tecca N9na makin' dumb digits And I run with it like when they hung niggas (Pyune) I be the killa, the one you be feeling for real, I got the hot flows Caught foes 'cause I got hoes, a lot dough when I rock shows Not no iller scrot bro if you crooked you smell like Sasso Used to be Rock, lock load, me and Token paint it like Picasso Motherfucka [Verse 3: Passionate MC] Yo, I'm putting the Darth in Anakin, ripping apart the planet with niggas alarmed and panicking Thoughts are scrambling, more than the doctors handling all of your parts with bandages And with all advantages I can show them through the devastation that Their end’s awaiting like the head of Satan with a demonstration of its separation Got the pencil breaking in the right hand, twist Necks like a mic stand Nightmare! Rip flesh in the distance of a lightyear, yeah! If you really want to talk about the buzz and the way that I had to bring it back quick With a tactic that is steadily breaking the fabric of the universe suddenly at risk 'Cause I’ve mastered this, Passionate’s back in his actions of sacrilege After subtracting these bitches way faster than an abacus I’m blasting shit, the snub nose never tells lies The .38 wrapped around my waist is not a belt size Like pregnant birds in the sky, you’ll see the shells fly Then I’ll kill myself just to make the devil in hell die I tell time, and the clock is ticking on the opposition when I pop it in 'em With an awkward rhythm, you can hear them hollering louder than opera women I'm a beast!