You Ain't Seen It Comin' - Celph Titled

Are.

You.

Ready?!

Another Celph Titled motherfuckin' banger.

Bllllllat!

Yeah, uh huh.

Hehehehe.

Awe man, motherfuckers, 813, that’s right baby

Highcollide, Paradox, uh huh, Celph Titled

The motherfuckin' Rubix Cuban

Yo let’s show them how we get down

Yes, yes.

Yeah, okay, you ready?

Tampa representatives

Let’s murder them.

It’s goin' down.

Check it, yo.

Fuck that

Highcollide

I had a Glock and held rifles

A million mega watts, it’s Paradox and Celph Titled

You busters are not ready

Rugged and drop deadly

Touch as a pot heavy

In buckets in box Chevy’s

My flow’s destine, I’m a veteran at work

Leave your soul in the heavens and your skeleton in the dirt

If it ain’t love that you feelin' than it’s probably pain

Strike ya with Tampa Bay Lightning like a hockey game

I’m a flow specialist, I conquer the globe’s premises

The most treacherous

Over your debt, toast beverages

Leavin' ya motionless while I’m causin' eclipses

Supreme vocalist, happen to be forced in existence

I’m electrical lyrically, fire like the sun

You’ll need medical facilities or retirement funds

This is a Cuban

Puerto Rican connection

Seekin' perfection

Competition is needin' direction

A speakers craft

Sayin' I’m ill is like sayin' a cheetah’s fast

I keep it movin' like a hundred meter dash

I’m too ferocious with

Styles that leave you hopelessness

Know who you provokin' bitch

You fuckin' with the ultimate

Blaow!

«Picture like you ain’t seen it coming» — Paradox

«Yo, it’s all extortion, for every man there’s a coffin» — Highcollide

«I get’s down and do my thing like I supposed to»

«Niggas is on attack»

«What the fuck was y’all thinkin'» — Fat Joe 'Find Out'

Watch me crack open the sky, blacken your eye

Then leave you strokin' on the ropes swingin' eight miles high

Now I’m watchin' you die

Askin' why

You testin' X, is you mental?

(These motherfuckers out they mind)

I be X Spawn, reborn with Tampa Bay residue

So bring the best of your crew

Learn a lesson or two

Invest in a vest or a preacher to start blessin' you

Believe it, this urban legend is true

For hip hop I’ll bludgeon a fool

Cut 'em in two

Leave a muttering fool, with nothing to do

But speaks in forked tongues like a stuttering fool

I lurk in the home of southern crunk

Where cats get jumped

(And what)

We got the sawed off shotgun hands on the pump

I have sex with fly dimes and gangster bitches that pack nines

While I’m poppin' silencers

Writin' rhymes, gettin' my shine

I’m in this game for the love of the art

Comin' straight for your heart

Though some of y’all been hatin' me

Straight from the start

Paradox the black sheep of the Bay

(Where it get’s dark)

The Judas creator

Crucify me now, but I resurrect three days later

Much greater

As one red eye Terminator

(You want more then we blazin' ya)

Tearin' flesh apart like a Florida gator

Made you afraid of the dark

Wish it was morning instead

Surprise somebody

Here comes the dawn of the dead

«Picture like you ain’t seen it coming» — Paradox

«Yo, it’s all extortion, for every man there’s a coffin» — Highcollide

«I get’s down and do my thing like I supposed to»

«Niggas is on attack»

«What the fuck was y’all thinkin'» — Fat Joe 'Find Out'

Y’all motherfuckers better fall back

You’re talkin' to a kingpin

Who write holy scriptures on a napkin with an ink pen

And y’all ain’t real unless you on Floridian realty

Cause we don’t keep it dirty down here we keep it filthy

I’m all over Tampa like Bob’s Barricades

With bombs and grenades at your mother’s crib givin' her serenade

Up in the club I might have snuck in a snub

So if it’s beef bring the ruckus and a bucket for blood

And don’t think we’re gonna meet you outside just to thug

We gonna meet you outside with the pump

And the buckshot from the gauge will give you acne scars

Clap at me from your whip

I’m launchin' missile that’ll lift the gravity out your car

Fuck your pistol burners

Cause we got motherfuckin' handguns

That spit shells the size of Crystal Burgers

Duckin' the cops, leavin' you motherfuckers stuck in a box

Fuck bubblin' rocks

I’m like the government up in my stocks

But up in the oven it’s hot

We cook blazin' rap cakes

While y’all wack fakes make DAT tapes that’s half baked

I’m sick, make a crack mother lactate

And let the mac take thirty pounds out of your estimated body weight

«Picture like you ain’t seen it coming» — Paradox

«Yo, it’s all extortion, for every man there’s a coffin» — Highcollide

«I get’s down and do my thing like I supposed to»

«Niggas is on attack»

«What the fuck was y’all thinkin'» — Fat Joe 'Find Out'