The Score

[Chorus: Dom Pachino]
I run in the spot, observe the whole place
Alert the Team, it's about to take place
Keep my eyes on the safe, security's weak
And surveillance is out dated

[Chapel]
Yo, it's the N, to the A, to the P, to the A-L-M
Roll the arsenal for all sorts of dilligent men
We up against, boy you know they past tense
Uh-huh, double up, more CREAM to spend
It's a war zone, that's why your clips is stem
For the soft M.C.'s, we the ones that you commend
Use our courage of strength, to wash away the past tense
Darts more sharp than the picket wired fence
Only way I lay a rhyme if the words make sense
Underscore worldwide, I guess it all depends
How we run wild, hitting cats, or we offend
Rock they jaw, then sparks up a weapon to det'
Pulling swords, don't matter, if you try and prevent
It's because of big tragedy, criminal attempts
Always know the verbs, from the mouth that I prevent
Fire camouflage, ammo, when you hide our trench

[Dom Pachino]
You can rush success, it travel at it's own rate
So I rock harder than a stone gate
I'm gangsta, nigga, like Capone in his state
A mind, I design, Napalm, the Team hold weight
Create the machine, the green flow great
See these M.C.'s won't wait with they hands out
We pull the hammers out, redeme you're aggreing by a large amount
Now you wanna talk it out? I'mma let my work speak for itself
If I had no Team, then I'd do it for delf
You can catch my shit on the shelf, in the local mom & pop stores
Cuz I got the raw, let the smokers in the hood be fiending for
This is Team Napalm and we pulling a score

[NLZ]
Yo, I laid in the trench with M-16
With a jacket, full of metal for my Napalm Team
Air a soldier, stealth bomb, fifty cal' toasters
Do it like a soldier, on a mission, it's suppose to
My niggas hold fort, I keep my enemies closer
They like ashes camo' for the metal rub lotion
Oops, I mean potion, I show no love
I get acquited for the murder like the O.J. glove
Blow a dub of 'dro stemi', eyes low, stay red
Swig a little, still reserved, take it straight to the head
Kid bugged out, niggas get rubbed out, I'm thugging
My rims too big, in your wheel, real brother
I'm too stubborn, yo, he don't hold weight, get off my corner
Before something make your head deflate

[Chorus]