The Bumrush - RYU, Ryu feat. Gravity Christ, Tak (SOB)

Uh, I’m going to on 'em

Yeah, I got a little surprise for 'em

Open up the all-seeing eye on 'em

Kill 'em all, throw a little lime on 'em

You know I get busy in this bitch huh

That’s why the competition never says shit huh

Keep your trap shut, homie it’s bad luck

They’ll find you chopped up in the back of a trash truck

The illest, ask us we came to kill it

You burn a village and stay just to rape and pillage

You know that feeling you get when you about to catch a body?

That’s the feeling I get when I walk into a party

I’m a monster — Ryu — but I’m more like Blanka

Going bonkers, break bones, destroy your car

Number one chief rocker, I’m the lord of the underground

I die every day, come alive when the sun’s down

The bumrush

They step to me but can’t stop the bumrush

Hey yo it’s easy for me to be unoptimistic literally

Even if I’m thirsty the glass is half full to me

I’m looking at the rest like it’s just air and opportunity

You’re just another reason for me to pull out my toolery

Croonery in my veins assumably interchange

A dungeon created Bane so how can you think he’s sane

I hit the open lane I’m Larry Csonka

Trucks tip Tonka, flip your little Honda

Filling up my trunk with pumps and lame chumps

Hitting all the bumps, I’m swerving way drunk

You see the sneakers in the back

Defeat em, I got it bad

I mean business, MC’s get a suit and a tag

State to state I’m dragging bacon by the pig boy

They fuck with me cause I murder all the killjoys

You know the feeling when I’m whooping that ass

We stay ready for the bumrush, heat in the dash

Just in time for the face-off

Funny how they thought this little giant fell asleep

Nah, colours on the move, I ain’t changed

Better time to unleash boy

Bodies on the street cause I can always smell the beef

And fresh food is part of my next move

you parakeets kill and crush groove

Yeah that’s Tak, hear that?

Scat and clear that block

Cause I’m selfish watch, ain’t no way I’d share that spot

Man I’m slicker than Lionel Richie in peril

From the sand your blood’s dripping like whisky in the barrel

With a fantasy, now let’s be honest and never hide the fact

That most of you little clowns ain’t down with this type of rap

Now I don’t give an F cause I’m not even impressed

I don’t bother with styles, solid product of intellect

So any time I speak my people give me respect

Yeah split 'em with one push, this ain’t no fun stuff

The bumrush