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    "There's a bulletin - state police, Princeton Junction"

    "The militia...
    Certain individuals of unidentified nature
    is now under complete control"

    "Hip-hop is not, what it is today.."

    "It's the real *echoes*... it's the (militia)"

    Verse one: Big Shug

    If heads only knew how I felt about the rap game
    They'd relocate, and change their fuckin name
    I eradicate movefakers, roll with coat shakers
    Give dap to mad money makers
    Shared cells with lifetakers, have sex with rumpshakers
    I make moves so I'ma earthquaker
    I've been known to instill fear
    Although the world may be round, we still trapped in the square
    City light, got me buggin and trife
    Some die by the gun, some die by the knife
    It's alright, like a game of spades I'm trump tight
    Premier hit me with music to ensure that it thump right
    And my flight, will be taken solely at night
    Cause that's when the freaks come out, no doubt
    And in the dark hours is when I will shower
    with the knowledge of my trade to get paid
    Still I make moves like a snake in the grass, roundabout
    I be dickin it down while you be assed out
    Puff mad L's but never passed out
    And if I'm caught up in a jam I blast my way out
    There'll be no lettin up, just straight shuttin up
    or we'll start the wettin up
    Lyrical infrared sceptor never miss you
    Big Shug, Guru, Freddie Foxxx, The Militia, militia

    Chorus: Freddie Foxxx

    Everybody's spittin it, the rhyme is hot
    Cause it's Big Shug, Guru, and Freddie the Foxxx
    When Premier bring the beats, no it just don't stop
    It's The Militia *echoes*


    Verse Two: Guru

    Yo; I ain't one to succumb to no man, but to command
    And scoop up the troops when it's time to take a stand
    Emphatically, deep strategies leave casualties
    I creep gradually, til everybody knows
    that I got more flows than Rosebud got hoes
    The anger inside had me trapped
    til I got geared up with raps to tear you up like big gats
    for big stacks, watch your back when I send em in
    Caught you tremblin, my name and face you're rememberin
    Several attempts, but nah bitch, you'll never win
    Rhymes pierce your skin or maybe limbs we'll be severin
    Take you to the mat, peep that, you should keep back
    My ill-kid format will lay you flat like a doormat
    that I walk on, I meditate while you talk on
    And gossip, so I drop my hot shit; fully loaded glock clips
    So get the fuck out my block, kid
    As nights turn to days, days go back to nights, we be speaking it right
    And keeping it tight up in the street life
    I meet life, head on, no holds barred
    Born with a heart of gold, now mostly cold and scarred
    En guard, choose your weapon, or get to steppin
    Lyrical bullets make you dance from the trance you be kept in
    Assessments are made before, and during combat
    I master my hunger, blow the spot when I bomb cats
    One of us, equals many of us
    Disrespect one of us, you'll see plenty of us
    Conflict, is what I predict
    You and your fellas is mad jealous, attempting to flare
    We cleverly stalked ya, your fam'll miss ya
    The war's on, that's why we formed The Militia


    Verse Three: Freddie Foxxx

    You niggaz owe me for my rhymes, I come to collect
    For you dope fiend niggaz in rap, I here to inject, check
    My style is water baby, spread it around
    But when you niggaz don't flow it right and fuck up my sound
    I get down; in '89 I spit the buck in the face
    of every MC that came in the place, a scar you'll never erase
    MC's are only recognized for their flows
    I'm worldwide for the bitches, that I turned into hoes
    You heard me spit it on Jew-elz, that's how it goes
    For all them faking ass niggaz and how I bust up they nose
    And while your, nose is drippin, and drainin blood
    I be standing over you screamin, "Nigga, WHAT, WHAT?! Nigga WHAT?!"
    Niggas feel my presence, like I'm right in they palm
    Cause a stormy day is coming, when you see me so calm, it's on
    No more twin glocks, they jam up my plays
    Now its twin .40 calibre Walther PPK's
    I'm in the control of my game, you must respect me like The Ref
    Uh-huh, you disrespect *gun clicks* you get the tech
    I turn you fake niggaz on and off, like I'm the clapper
    I rob so many niggaz, they should call me Jack the Rapper
    I'll the illest nigga doing this, dead or alive
    Gloria Gaynor on you motherfuckers, I Will Survive
    You can try to come at me, but do you want the kick back?
    You snap inside the cage of a pit, and you get bit back, huh
    My war is so tight, my drama so ill
    Beef with me hangs around like a unpaid bill
    I push these lyrics through any MC, and make it burn
    So the niggaz who be rhyming next, will miss a turn
    When you speak of who's the dopest MC, I don't come up
    But when you speak of who's the livest MC, I stay what up, what's up?
    I got stripes while you got strikes and bogus mikes
    Do what bitch niggaz do best *UTFO sample* bite
    You niggaz can't make up a law that I don't overrule, overthrow
    Prim' brought Bumpy these tracks so I can let you know
    Before I slide I'ma leave you this jewel
    Even mechanics walk around with they tools

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