Exoskeleton

VERSE 1 - Ruste Juxx Deep from the depths of the dirt, I’m a demon Terrorize your nightmares, bitch while you dreaming J-U-Double-X, you motherf***ers next Suplex, n***a, break your motherf****ng neck Murder-One case-beater, walk out of court laughing Lead shower your corpse in a blood-bathing Vampire, nocturnal beast with it Murder rate increasing, wack rapper deceasing You fragile, I’m wild with that mad style Been a bad seed, Juxx was a bad child My enemies die slow, it’s torture 3rd degree burns on your body when I scorch ya Sunblock, Ong Bak, elbow to forehead Double back, reload, empty out more lead You duck, dive, dip when I’m dumping N****s fronting, got that shotgun pumping HOOK: I storm through your fortress with the force of an elephant There’s not a b**** bone in my Exoskeleton Two puffs of petro, my brains turn to gelatin Grind 9 to 9, the city is all mine If I die tomorrow, or they throw me in cuffs I will not back down to a couple of local tuffs So no, we won’t hang around to hear your metaphors Get the f**k back, Jack Stand clear of the closing doors VERSE 2 - Jake Palumbo Never walk with the sheep, I’m avenging the herd You expecting Dawson’s Creek? This Revenge Of The Nerd Before Netflix & Chill, it was Blockbuster Nights I used to date a White Russian up in Killa Crown Heights Mix a White Russian out of breast milk & Nesquik Mix a hit record on an SSL desk, quick I’m Destro, you some Cobra Commanders My snare drums get frequently mistaken for hammers Beats By Palumbo, Thorazine to your Thorax Fleetwood Mac, I cut your cocaine with Borax Dr. Seuss flows, getting shows for 3 or 4 racks Poet laureate for the groundlings like the Lorax Send my mail to Gravesend, Bucktown When my grey-haired uncle plays with guns You should Duck Down Ruste, Smif-N-Wessun in the SpaceLAB, what now? Touch down, take the money & run, POW! (REPEAT HOOK) VERSE 3 - Tek of Smif-N-Wessun: P***y h* wanna test I, must be ready to die You’re f**king with the Prince of the Stuy I’m just another great from the 718 It’s the silverback, outfit all BAPE I point fingers & bodies drop Leg, chest, head shots Come thru any block Let the Mac Milli rock I remember days when I was at the Days Inn Bagging up, tryna make a G before a day’s end I never spoke that N***a where the smoke at? (Where the smoke at?) 40-Calli on my waist, don’t provoke Tek I told the banker that I got that Shoot that light s***, n***a threw a 5 and I threw 6 Ohhhhhh….. Diadora’s killed the game that’s for certain Curtains, waves so thick that you can surf in You see my n***as, them my n***as for life Don’t get yours cut short Rest in Peace Sean Price Smoke…. (REPEAT HOOK)