F/ Chapel, Crunch Lo

[Chorus 2X: all]

If you know the name, say it, if you feel it then display it
This is Napalm, ^!$$%, Napalm, ^!$$%
If the streets is watching, and they seeing what we doing

This is Napalm, ^!$$%, Napalm, ^!$$%

[Dom Pachino]

Yo, I don't wanna hurt nobody, but if I have to
You damn right, I'mma blast duke
And ask you, why you made me do this %#@!

Cuz your ignorant $$# ain't no when to quit
Oh you unhappy, on some some old gangsta %#@!
Put out and let it spit, and, empty the clip

But umm, I don't wanna catch a body
All I came to do is party, on some lodi dodi
Lodi dodi, and spin off with a hotty

Kid, I've been here, I ain't gotta prove no point
You have no wins here, you be disappointed
Getting paper ain't paper, you got work, then work it

I'm underground but I gotta rise to the surface
I'm getting money on purpose, I start to see it
Like street money ain't worth it, cuz my freedom ain't worth it

But my seed gotta eat, and my ends gotta meet
Some how I see how it's worth it
Don't make me hurt you on no bull%#@!

Cuz if that's the case, you'll definetly see a full clip

[Chorus 2X]


[Chapel]
Yo, you'll never see it clear, (*##$ $$#, you need ya glasses

You washed up, rhymes on track, it just clashes
Heading down the wrong way, follow on my pad
This is so forth, later on, your style be out scanning

Team Napalm, steady, have you ready like a firearm
Strong enough to rip through, materials of tephlon
I'm blessed on this earth, with a murderous verse

Turn a scene all trash when my words disperse
It's a knowledge for the self, that I'm fiending to search
Livewire be my right hand that guard the turf

Think your team look funny like the burners burst
We can do it all day all verse for verse
And my universal travel down different sights of outskirts

I feel raw chills when I clips insert
Empty out real fast, son, you lay in the dirt
This is Team Napalm, competition get murked, boy


[Chorus 2X]


[Crunch Lo]
Yo, catch me, nine to five, a dime for dime
Graduated to the doves, plus I mingle with the thugs

On hot blocks, with hot boys and big gun toys
And such, mic in my hand, til it erodes and rust
Dust my shoulder off, cuz I feel like a pimp

Creeping in the dark, puffing on a big spliff
This is Crunch Lo-ology, getting money's a part of me
Never grinding hard, I mask up for robberies

Apologies to my Earth'll turn her sour
The streets got me, ma, enlightened by baby pa
Ghetto Superstar, like I'm Pras and Ol' Dirt

(*##$ $$# ^!$$%s get hit by their skirt
Feel my hurt and my pain, on paper I let it rain
Blazing off the heat like I playing Max Payne

Credit my grain, for making me real rounded
Strong as an ox, plus I'm equal well grounded


[Chorus 2X]