Dreams

[Intro: Blitzkrieg]
Yeah, yeah. Yeah. Hydra exclusive. Yo. Ayyo, this one right here is for all you lullaby-dreaming-ass cats. Called Having Your Dreams Ripped Apart, sitting in your bed, thinking ‘bout you getting deals, you getting money and all that bullshit. ‘Cause y’all ain’t got no skills. Blitz (Stop fantasizing), The Plague

[Verse 1: Blitzkrieg]
Now if you’re wondering, my intentions are genuine
We ‘bout to take it to the origins—the Golden Age is back again
Putting up a bulletin. Nah, fuck that. Put a bullet in
When I pull back and shoot it, your whole squad’ll be executed
We’re new to the field if ask your average citizens
In the trenches we’ve been living in, we’re the regiments of veterans
Living on sparse rationings, broken fountain pens, simplistic beat blends
No paper, so we wrote our words on napkins
Now what I’m peddling better than vitamins and medicine
Yet much more deadly like nitroglycerin mixed with heroine
In your bloodstream, it starts settling
You’ve got time for one scream before your senses start deading and
You could dream of being dope if we didn’t start meddling
Now your family and friends are saying, “Amen,” in front of the reverend
In the end, I recommend Vaseline if you’re a virgin
We’re Having Your Dreams Ripped Apart—check the wording
Bursting your concentration from atop a cloud of cumulus
Prepare for condensation—we’re spitting acid rain on numerous
Amateurs, giving more than puny, punitive damages
Murder your music and managers. We’re verbally vandalous
Scandalous killing spree you shouldn’t wish on your worst enemy
Syllable symmetry is generating energy
Again, it’d be Blitz. My chemistry fits
The style and profile of emcees that kill this gimmicky shit
I’m clinically sick, beast of burden, having my mind hurting
Just to have you comprehend Hydra’s always a godsend
Why in Blitzkrieg’s name, then, you think it’s OK to spit horrendous?
Lyrics that’s offerings that offend us?
Our rap is relentless. You’ve got no chance to win
We’ll be Having Your Dreams Ripped Apart—check the lettering

[Hook: Samples]
“You wish that you could get with this” - Sample from [?]
“Who want to battle?” - Sample from [?]
“You wish that you could get with this” - Sample from [?]
“Hydra” - Sample from [?]
“Having Your Dreams Ripped Apart—check the lettering” - Sample from Blitzkrieg on The Plague ft. Hydra’s “Dreams”

[Verse 2: Wild Child]
Ha! Verbally, you’ve heard of me
Thoroughly hurdling hyper hyperbole
Blood-curdling with magnificent metaphors
That’d be raising all my rebels up and revel (Yes-a, yes!)
You remember me? I’m one of the remedies
To get rid of these emcees instead of these phonies
Faking felonies on amphetamines
I’ll be the means to end all willing schemes
Until it’s clean ‘cause, still, it means a hill of beans
If they’re killing kings and queens with silly themes
Of Machiavelli dreams, flexing a Lex or Rolex
In Tommy Hilly jeans ‘cause my ten-dollar seams
Stitched by the same twelve-year olds out in the Philippines
(Whaa!) Where your skills at? (Ha!) You need to build that
Hydrophobia coming over ya—can you feel that?
Chills back in your spine, you all panic
When I rhyme, the Earth aligns with all planets
Solar eclipse when I equips the organics
Lyrically fluid, the D’s volcanic
Prophesized in ancient oxidized ceramics
Something wicked this way comes—I’m awesome
Wild Child (Ha!) about to represent where you’re from
The Third Rock. My words drop like storms of anvils
I’ll swarm your set like Kilimanjaro man thrills
I warn and threat. Now with hand skills ‘cause man kills
But my speed of thought got you caught at a standstill
Toe-to-toe, man, you slow, man. You know the program
It’s like Having Your Dreams Ripped Apart—check the slogan

[Hook: Samples]
“You wish that you could get with this” - Sample from [?]
“Who want to battle? Who want to battle?” - Sample from [?]
“Change the order. There’s no way that we can rock after them” - Sample from Black Thought on The Roots' "100% Dundee"
“Having Your Dreams Ripped Apart—check the lettering” - Sample from Blitzkrieg on The Plague ft. Hydra’s “Dreams”

[Verse 3: GMS]
Yo, yo, I see crowds gathering, asking why I’m strangling
Traveling barefoot on gravel while the flow is unraveling
It’s no more baffling than theories of the Pythagorean
Triangle. I strangle to keep wack emcees from rattling
Keep hip hop from vanishing, eliminate the weak by battling
Launch my lyrical javelin straight through your abdomen
My verbal acumen sonically stabbing men when I have a pen
When I go off the top, what I often drop will leave ‘em staggering
I’m saddling similes and metaphors and grappling
With punchlines and bass kicks, my uppercut smash a gentleman
I’m standing in my own cypher, hard to grasp like Mandarin
Abandoning hooligans carrying on shenanigans
I’m banishing foes faster than these flows I’m mastering
Plastering haymakers on gay fakers sweeter than saccharine
I’ll have to win. Emcees are so soft, it’s saddening
So clean, their lyrics lather when they get inside a bath with them
Battle? I’ll play you like a mandolin. I’m quick to smack your friend
And if he tries to run, you’d best believe I’m coming after him
Lyrically jacking him, attacking him, pull out the gat at him
Verbally blasting him—and if I miss, I’ll blast again
You’ll feel the wrath of ten. Send all your men so we can laugh at them
Half of them won’t be going home after the laughter ends
Hopes I’m shattering of escaping my verbal labyrinth
Your nervous chattering only leads to further damaging
I’m challenging any emcee who thinks he’s averaging
More lines than Canibus and Cappachino battling (What?)
A savage when I ravage friends. Imagine what I do to enemies
On bended knees, begging, “Please.” I start subtracting limbs
My pockets fatten and you’re looking rather slim. My soul is cast in sin
Having Your Dream Ripped Apart—check the acronym
All the lines I have are gems. Don’t believe? Go ask your friends
When they’re answering, I’ll bet their teeth are chattering
So quit your hassling. Mad because your girls is straddling
With a wooden spoon in her mouth so she could take it in the ass again
My nuts are dangling all on her chin. I’ll begin banging ‘em
Hanging ‘em like good friends or, like emcees, I’ll be strangling
Your only chance to win is rummaging through the crates
To pay our fucking publishing before you start sampling
Fucking with G-Man again, you’ll get slammed with synonyms and antonyms
Millions of thousand-dollar words I’ll be cramming down your throat
Mic cord tangling. New Jacks and veterans
Claiming that they’re better than Hydra, but they be slandering
Knowing they need editing, can’t test the brethren
We’re Having Your Dreams Ripped Apart, lyrically arrogant
Style is malevolent, irreverent, never irrelevant
Slaughter benevolent reverends. The Plague
Campus in the streets. Whether you Arian or Rastafarian
Lyrical abstinence the only thing you should be practicing
I’ll be back again with Pumpkinhead, PackFM
Substantial, [?], Bad Seed, Kameel-Yen
Use some intelligence when pondering head-severing
We’re Having Your Dreams Ripped Apart—check the lettering