[Intro: Takktic]
Yo, yo. What's up this is Takktics, universal soldier

Keeping it jiggy for the S-O-Cs
Year two G, bioknights regin supreme
What's up y'all, we's about to get hardcore

Re-re-re-reactive armor, you know what I'm saying

[Takktics]

It's like a M-1 tank
I rip through your sound banks
I to pranks, get ruthless like a long shank

Punks want coins, it they don't give thanks to
Dragon dog, with high ranks
I am a pirate, no a pilot, the battleship

With ill cybernetics %#@!, on a sci-fi tip
Strictly hype when I bite a mic
I bring the sixs, the oh, the eight to the battle hype

It's Takktics, tactical, ill-dramitical, radical
Coming with a fist full of spittin' bull
It's ill flow for the elements

608 soldiers bring it on, report to the redgiment
Da %#@! is evident, we never hesitant
We drill you like a surgen

Take you for your garments and your gumption
What the $#&@s your function?
(We got no flows, no hip hop style, no conjunction)


[Chorus: Dark Shade]
First things first y'all, bring it over here (over here)

When we appear, we putting rhymes in your ear
What if we put on top of bass and a snare
This years its got to be loud and clear


[Dark Shade]
Prepare for combat like the F-14 tomcat

Put the bombs in the tracks when I react and thats that
Peep the stats, I'm runnin' through your system like a fax
The toungue is the axe so sharpen up all of them weak raps

I'm storming buildings like Purvian commandos
Mad flows permit me to hit targets quicker than arrows
The specialist in these rhyme sciences aka the iron fist that strikes

swift
I execute the task of rhyme designing with perfect timing
Electrifying like bolts of lightning when I'm rhyming

See, weak delivieries need to be put on freeze like salaries or athletes
with injuries
I maintain my, position in the game (game)

I'm leaving stains on people's brains, so they remember the name (name)
The Dark Shade is running with the Shades of Culture unit
(And ayo, we constant with the movements like fluid)


[Chorus]


[Revolution]
Liek tactics in Desert Storm
I be the undead soldier

I thought I $#&@ing told ya got a space between your shoulder
Get crushed by rolling boulders
On the mics, and the beats, and the streets set the scene for me to cut

out you spleen
This rap court is hardcore, twisting backs
An ex-con of poultry(?), eating those chickenheads like snacks

Spit out the bones and begin to twist cones
To relax with the dread in the 608 zone
You're getting kicked in the balls like Pele's crew

It's time to get rude, I'm leaving all of them unglued
Falling apart at the seams, and it seems you got pipedreams
Put down the mic and start turning cream

Into butter, don't stutter or end in the rap gutter
Or go find yourself another managerial staff
DOn't laugh, find a new crew

Write some fresh lyrics or you're through

[Chorus X3: with background scratching]

["First serve basis" scracthed to fad]