All Out War (Prowla remix)

(Verse 1: Bob Balans)
This is all out war with a fallout sure to cause a backlash
I’ll bash in your fucking face, I don’t stab backs
Trends attacking rappers with a thirst for blood
Submerge your body in a river shoved in a Persian rug
Eternal come for curtains, that’s a certainty
Leaving third degree burns from these first degree murder sprees
Earning me and my verse and these words global praise
I throw grenades when I flow and set the show ablaze
A fire bug for hire shrugging a cop off
Plug in the micro bomb, soft cunts to compost
We from a long lost planet where rap is real
Still intact and untapped by the mass appeal
Market, LC spark and blast targets
Master the craft and kick it raw like a carcass
Lyrical Commission's carving a path with (something)blades
We roll deeper in the streets than a motorcade

(Verse 2: brad strut)
I’m barely breathing, bleeding, heart rate increasing
It’s fire stakes, I can’t take fakes and thieves
And past mistakes seep in through the gaps of my armour
Ain't nothing what it seems as I battle with snake charmers
Paint you a portrait, I got a sword, just not cautious, do what I want
My squads forces hard to handle like a grenade on detonation
Rock the candles, a parade of devastation
Defend the nation while I step inside your earlobes
And carve you split of slick spits and I don’t fear no man
You need heroes, all I want is beer, blow some weed and type speech
Some beats and reap zero, disrespect, I hinder reps with heavy burden
Get in your head, and leave you left for dead, they’re calling curtains
This shit’s superb in your Car or Walkman, go stalking an important
Public figure’s son is a slick assassinator, four fours caught in an elixir
Sworn to fascinate you with scorn joining the mix, it’s life and death
In this business, it’s kind of sad, but I define my track with death scriptures

(Verse 3: Celph Titled)
There ain’t a mother fucker been in more fights than me
OG’s in my hood ain’t got more stripes than me
Celph Titled is known to tote but when I ain’t packing
I keep a buck fifty so we can get it cracking
And if you throw slugs, you better pray they graze your chin
You said you had an infrared, but that was just a laser pen
Just the site of me will make you strain to breathe
I shoot till I’m satisfied, I aim to please
And you ain’t got more ammo than me, with clips there’s no contender
In my house we keep gun oil in liquid soap dispensers
You shouldn’t let your mouth flap, cause I’m a put you under
And I ain’t talking about the Outback
In New York I’m grungy, In Australia, I’m Dundee
Cooking barbecue with just the smoke from my gun heat
People get comfy with a pillow in the face
The Demigodz and the Commission filling body bags by the case

(Verse 4: Brad Strut)
The world leaves the forgotten to lurk in the waste
That’s why I don’t trust, I hurdle through space
With a thrust and peril is safe from the payback
Cause where I stay you fight for a placemat
And I don’t say cat, cause where I grew up that meant faggot
But I do leaves tracks po’wed and flattered
Staked in habit, daggered, when I unsheathe the mic from the scabbard
And uphold the standard cause your fates borrowed
So check the horrid scars on your face and forehead
In hostile territory like foreign embassy
LC start a war, now we’re the common enemy
Execute you to a tight schedule
Get the general, the rest are expendable
Melt ya, every decibel held ya in a molten tank
Until it’s over your scalp and there’s nothing left for burial
Your aluminum in the smolder stay crushed, the heavy fuel
Expels the metal shells in your shoulder
Arial assault leave you pumped like a propeller