You know the team, we bust them thangs
And when we come through with them tanks, we blow off steam

The team supreme, we shine and gleam
So victorious and we always do our thing



Yo, back up on this (*##$, like ain't that a (*##$
Look at B9 flossing like I struck it rich

And it's no stopping me, how low can you skip?
This, CD power hour, and this our %#@!
And, even if you bought it, yo, we made the %#@!

We gonna blow like the grenade displayed on our %#@!
It's, Killarm' for life, we just invading %#@!
So we proving that we nice, even though all six

Ain't spit off clip, you will still get hit
By a six piece of head bar, followed by a kick
To your rib, dick, I be Kinetic, you heard it here first

Yo, on this record, I wreck %#@!
Bong, $#&@ a song is on some next %#@!
The reason why we took so long, we had to go perfect %#@!

Bong, now seek the exit, and even though you gone
We atleast get through a second, of the single flow






Aiyo, the Granddaddy Flow is still militant
Killarm' we killin' it, who wanna feel it? I let the rhyme spit
Fresh out of jail, now I'm back in the mix

^!$$%s thought me and P.R. will never get back together
Now we back like furs and leathers
Fresh Guess watch, Gucci socks

Beyonce on my jock, rap flow clap ^!$$%s in Crimestock
He's my brother-in-law, never disrespect, pa
Get your $$# on the floor

Strip to ya Victoria Secret drawers
Yeah, so I can explore, militant galore
The type of %#@! that make (*##$es adore

Verbal $$#assin, lyrical dragon
I write with passion, ^!$$%s stay flashing
Got to hit the check cashing, hit the clubs

Now I'm back on the map, I'm still macking





Back is the pistol popping, the knowledge dropping

Green like the camouflaging, the living large fam
Even though my ^!$$% seen the slammer, we back
With some bad mama jammas, with the hammers

Is it the beats or percussion, the heat or discussion
The Germans or the Russians, the blacks or the Latins
My ^!$$%'s back, you ^!$$%s know what's happening

Is it the scripts or the tablets, the dicks or the maggots
The pigs or the rabbits, the bears in the forest
The lyrics or the chorus, I bum rush like Boris Zhukov

And wipe your blood on my new cloth
I'm at it, I leave you dead like flowers in the attic
I know I rhyme best with my crew, it's a habit

Grab it, embrace it, and taste it like The Matrix
I know we hardcore, I was raised in the Army, and we never gon' fall