Issue No 109 The Warning Lyrics
The Warning by Issue No. 109
ft. Sean Price & Termanology
Stay calm, don't make me spit the napalm
Half A rap bitch, I can make bombs
I can make moms come inside they're panties
I'm breaking up your family like little orphan Annie
You rappers hardly manly, that's because you bitch me
I be kicking dope, verses sharper than a switchblade
I twist haze but I mix it with the twizzle
I'm in your bitch and you, dummy, you just that sequel
Yella, yella, mraah, I love my people
I'm on point like uncle Najib with the desert eagle
Every P is lethal and everyone should know that
I rock a fresh Yankee with the berries in this throwback
You so whack, hold that in your cranium
My shot like the lights hanging over a giant stadium
You rappers shouldn't play with him, he burns cats alive
Like a Chinese chef, a quarter after five, peace!
Truly concrete, I spit street strictly
Don't overstay the stay, I keep heat with me
Whenever I lay my hat, it's good
Whenever I spray my gut you know that I'm good
Mandela, Sean is my covering
Everything I spit, shotgun with the rubber grid
Summer shit, pad polo shorts, lengthy blue ones on
Pull the White T fan mail, fuck you doing, Sean?
You right, fuck clothes, fuck flows
Diabolic, the shit that fighting was probably candy to pop
Hits you in them bands and you're shot
Rubber to the dark side, you make Anakin stop
Planning to pop, niggas ain't planning to pop
Dismantle your knot then I manhandle your guap
Keep it loot across the board, don't make plans with the cops
These niggas will have your status be as hot as a cop
My bitch a cannibal 'cause she eat dick
36 chambers meets Mafia 36
Three fifths of these rappers is fake
The other portion is late
'Ology, Harry Ford in the place, we make hip hop
That'll leave a scar in the game
A box cutter, ice cutter, chainsaw on the blade
I sell drugs, bring my whole block in the game
Whole club full of leakers tryna plot on your chain
I rock jewels, both hands is King Tut
Do you cast 30 even though I'm clean cut
Jean pack the stuff and ready to pack the scene's up
30 countries in two years, I gotta keep up
Speak up when you talk to me, son, I ree up with bosses
So I ain't fucking with you, impostors
Got a Macbook that's filled up with mad hoes
Damn hooker's butt, man, you know how it goes
We treat 'em cold
Stay calm, don't make me spit the napalm
Half A rap bitch, I can make bombs
I can make moms come inside they're panties
I'm breaking up your family like little orphan Annie
You rappers hardly manly, that's because you bitch me
I be kicking dope, verses sharper than a switchblade
I twist haze but I mix it with the twizzle
I'm in your bitch and you, dummy, you just that sequel
Yella, yella, mraah, I love my people
I'm on point like uncle Najib with the desert eagle
Every P is lethal and everyone should know that
I rock a fresh Yankee with the berries in this throwback
You so whack, hold that in your cranium
My shot like the lights hanging over a giant stadium
You rappers shouldn't play with him, he burns cats alive
Like a Chinese chef, a quarter after five, peace!
Truly concrete, I spit street strictly
Don't overstay the stay, I keep heat with me
Whenever I lay my hat, it's good
Whenever I spray my gut you know that I'm good
Mandela, Sean is my covering
Everything I spit, shotgun with the rubber grid
Summer shit, pad polo shorts, lengthy blue ones on
Pull the White T fan mail, fuck you doing, Sean?
You right, fuck clothes, fuck flows
Diabolic, the shit that fighting was probably candy to pop
Hits you in them bands and you're shot
Rubber to the dark side, you make Anakin stop
Planning to pop, niggas ain't planning to pop
Dismantle your knot then I manhandle your guap
Keep it loot across the board, don't make plans with the cops
These niggas will have your status be as hot as a cop
My bitch a cannibal 'cause she eat dick
36 chambers meets Mafia 36
Three fifths of these rappers is fake
The other portion is late
'Ology, Harry Ford in the place, we make hip hop
That'll leave a scar in the game
A box cutter, ice cutter, chainsaw on the blade
I sell drugs, bring my whole block in the game
Whole club full of leakers tryna plot on your chain
I rock jewels, both hands is King Tut
Do you cast 30 even though I'm clean cut
Jean pack the stuff and ready to pack the scene's up
30 countries in two years, I gotta keep up
Speak up when you talk to me, son, I ree up with bosses
So I ain't fucking with you, impostors
Got a Macbook that's filled up with mad hoes
Damn hooker's butt, man, you know how it goes
We treat 'em cold