Holochaust – Shuffle Heavy-gun-powder-keg lyrics

Artist: Holocaust f/ Professional
Album: Smugglin' Booze in the Graveyard
Song: Shuffle Heavy-Gun-Powder-Keg
Typed by: Knowledge God

[Intro: Holocaust]
Yo
Gun! Powder! Keg!
Warcloud, Professional, Vulgar
Aiyo, it's how we rock-rock it
It's how we rock yo yo
It's how we rock-rock it
It's how we rock it, yo yo
Warcloud, aiy

[Chorus: Holocaust]
The art of mic rocking, the art of turntables
Graffiti train yard like waxworks that's fatal
Trouble is my business, flier raps then box kites
Bump into and slump you with heavy pistols, we rock mics
The art of mic rocking, the art of turntables
Graffiti train y'all like waxworks that's fatal
Welcome to the bunk house, pin ball, you age
While I gun rappers down in arcades, come with the page

[Holocaust]
Soap box races the ‘Ghost of Dragstrip Hollow’
Lounging in the back with the chief streak of water fire
Catch a pretty chick spring fruit juice, I'm cluck
Niggas wanna be criminals but they ain't smart
You could never ice me, I’m too ice and dice
British selling cheap shirted guys them gritty flies
Ever since an unruly kid boggled a great
Took a snap shot in the tree at Will Rogers's estate
Right by the polo fields, Zorro the Fox
Toto while the moral is hot, smoulder with pox
Roll them in the box, drop rocks then cock glocks
Clock you out your socks with the ox, the knot props
Under Old Lady's house banging pans and pots
You caught us on the block, Hopscotch, we Hot Jocks
Guns at thirty mobs for dirty cops that shot
We bob for Blue Apples on yachts with a lot of wop
Champagne tops pop in a dark spot in watts
Ride a lot, niggas sleep on cots, you caught the knots
I bought a nice watch, got hype thoughts and mot’s
Know you want to jot, like pops you got thought
Tart, what you saw too colonial down in Lexington
Tart, what you saw too colonial down in Lexington
Biker hitchhiker chick had you hold in the wind
She's full of problems that she likes to make, I'm breaking cake
Jolly break your face with a paper mate, we church mice
Starving like an old fat man, my gats jam
Dead mans game, I'll murder you 'til I'm sleepy
Then pay my ­­­____ on the outside of my tepee

[Professional]
Yo I sleep with conviction, hit you where your bone will rubble
And I want it susceptible to disease, the art of mic rocking
Turntables, graffiti and weed
Mics, turntables, graffiti and weed
How you supposed to see me with your vision impaired?
I shot your tongue out of your mouth and leave you dead on the stairs

Chorus