Shaolin Vs Lama - Instrumental

How dare you challenge me?

Malayan tiger

I think it's time we went deep into the archives

No one is allowed to enter the sacred foe

This Alaskan nigga approached me, he had suede on

Caesar had half moon, had his weight on

Five, six, drop, pressing Barbados

Stacked potatoes, rockin' Kris shit, had Play-Doh

What's your name? Louis Rich the Third

Bag your herb, half of that, kid, probably a burb

Now we speak, took off my hat, waves thinkin'

Beat, they think he actin' like he know about Reef

Still unsure, other than that, feel more than safe

Let money fake, I got three, boys hate that

Rolled up, thought a nigga would front and fold up

Threw the medallion out, rocks all rolled up

Who should beat this? Money grabbin' his drink

Bumpin' the Leafs, that's Chico, yo, what up with Rico?

He's chillin', glanced at his nigga with the Rams hat

Checked the stands, then check where his hands at

Drinks was gorgeous, priceless shit, that's foolish

Fifteen thousand in the trunk, he asked for Louis' cat

Reached, grabbed his burner, shots released like a new single, though

Except one touched the god niece, emotional

Blowin' them shots like they promotional

Shorty run from the door, hit the floor, commotion

Won't stop playin', bangin' on the door, jakes layin'

Something crazy, he had an eighty and a cat hand

Stay still, kid, them niggas over there want drama

Hold your head, sort of like Wu vs. Lama

Grab the ether, salute them niggas, you got shit

Calico pop shit, rap burglar rock shit (yo, yo)

You're bein' watched like you new on the block from rooftops

Get your booze on, these hot shots pop, the music stops

Party's over, bold soldier move for his holster

Shot the lights out, struck the bouncer in his shoulder

Hard times for Po-9

Can't control the masses scream for more, backstage, we slingin' V.I.P. passes

Jakes sprayin' mace, riots be takin' place

When the Clan show their face, the fans slow their pace

Get your blunt rolled, fuck the 5-0, they want it done, though

Bitches get trampled, niggas wildin' in the front row

Fire marshall catch a beat-down tryin' to cut my sound

Radio dispatcher back-up

Bustin' rounds without intermission from a crouched position

Bullets ricocheted off the strobe-light, strikin' Christians

My nigga slipped in 'nough ammunition to bust back

Fuck that, them out of- own cats'll take the rap

It's war on the dance floor, quarter to four

Before we peeled off, they tried to seal off the back door

Gats for the beast, high-pursuit down the side street

Shot up my getaway Jeep

Crashed the front glass, and blew the head-rest off the passenger seat

I grabbed the heat, ditched the whip and then escaped on feet

While the locals interrogated for names and photos

Work with 5-0, swappin' info for dough

Stay still, kid, them niggas over there want drama

Hold your head, sort of like Wu vs. Lama

Grab the ether, salute them niggas, you got shit

Calico pop shit, rap burglar rock shit

Stay still, kid, them niggas over there want drama

Hold your head, sort of like Wu vs. Lama

Grab the ether, salute them niggas, you got shit

Calico pop shit, rap burglar rock shit

What? Uh

Ain't scared of that, but listen