War Games

[Intro: Pharoahe Monch & O.C.]

War Games

War Games

Uh, yeah, uh, uh, uh, what?

Crooklyn Dodger Number 2, O.C

Yeah, back on the scene, motherfuckers

Me and Preemo, you know?

East New York, Bushwick

Bed-Stuy, and all those good places

Yo

[Verse 1: O.C.]

My main frame disciplined like a soldier

Ready for war, push-ups get my chest swole up

What’s the deal, Preem? I mean the scheme

I think I got it locked in, nigga, War Games is the theme

Rap commando, what’s my handle?

O.C. ample to rock shit, battle niggas who pop shit

Green beret, thoughts slicker

I’m one step ahead – slide through enemy lines like a black Ac’ Vigor,

Camouflage, running through your zone with no detection

‘Cause the dark-skinned marksman run through your section

Flesh and bones, physical built like titanium

Garbs cover my grill like Iranians

Ill gorilla, so-called killers

I fear no man but Allah, for the guidance he instill in us

The Renaissance Man, I blow up like grenades

Sharp like GemStars, cause massive scars

O.C.’s all in it, dope I’ve been for years

Now I’m back on the scene, and I declare War Games

[Verse 2: O.C.]

I bust off like an M-16, ripping through spleens

From head to toe, blood soak up your jeans

Rap veteran, earned my stripes, fought wars

Opposing forces, would O.C. take losses?

Nauseous, you’re feeling kind of like throwing up

Cautious, watch your step, land rhymes blowing up

Having no pity for foes – fuck G.I. Joe, he’s a sucker

Slap the taste out of wild motherfuckers

Design a rhyme like a plan for the government

Six Million like Steve Austin, costing

Apprehended? If I am, enzymes in my body will erupt M-16

Type of cadence, voice filled with ammo

Bust off into a crowd of bitch niggas, sing soprano

When I get you in the square, then I end your career

All MCs, let’s make one thing clear:

You’re all the same, I will remain, fuck the fame

Feeling the lane to shoot, I declare War Games

[Hook: Organized Konfusion (Pharoahe Monch & Prince Po)]

I declare

War Games

On niggas who flaunt figures for more fame

Guerrilla warfare tactics issued, unlimited access to ammo

With fireproof camouflage apparel

I declare (I declare)

War Games

On niggas who flaunt figures for more fame

Guerrilla warfare tactics issued, unlimited access to ammo

With fireproof camouflage apparel

[Verse 3: O.C.]

Precise, pinpoint it, pull it, when I cock back

This here rap will slap you and your team

And that bad bitch, sneeze from my uncut raw like coke

Preem, take a pause, roll up your smoke

Then toke it, back to B.I.,

See, I can do this, I’m professional

Too much weight to weigh any scale

Dutch Master Superior blend, inhale me right

Young Phillies, take a toke of my rap and get the willies – paranoid

Niggas are now void

Fuck with O.C., get your life destroyed

Like a Marine, I’m a trained rap-killing machine

Fiend to rock a mic set from New York to New Orleans

Overseas, I conquer, rough like Blanka

Love to eat actors, got a taste for drama

When I flow, I get comatose in my own world

From the first verse, you saw my plan unfurl

I maintain same name, never change

My M.O. is to demo’ competition on the mic

War Games

[Outro: Pharoahe Monch & O.C.]

War Games

War Games

War Games

War Games

War Games