Originators

Yo, what up?

This right here, is an explosion

For all the radio stations

Across United Nations

United States

Word up, turn this up right here

Eh-yo..

It's the Prince

Eh-yo, Originators became Gladiators

God-body regulators with street educators

I was born from the womb, I'm energy handlin

Peep the creator of The Terminator

9th Prince rhyme slayer

Stapleton Housing Projects, razors

Machine gun blazers

Ask your neighbors

Jamiacan rum, no chaser

Number one contender

We can bust guns after dinner

Last Man Standin, he's the winner

Ghetto Prime Minister

Desert Storm sk-masked Avengers

We move like ninjas, in the winter

Born skin Adonis

Slugs to the stomach, blood gush like vomit

Madman's bionic, check the rugged climate

Bright like lightnin, Terrorist Islamic

A ghetto superhero like Marvel Comics

Vertical limits, fresh notebooks

I write anthems for crooks

Image, cross the line of scrimmage

I shoot you in ya temple

And leave ya face shattered with dimples

Killarm' could never be so simple

Cross My Heart and won't die 'til ya ass is crippled

In a wheelchair

Kneecap raps, flashbacks of Digital Warfare {*echoes*

Word up, I wanna say what up

To those who copped our first and second album

Y'all real troups out there

Yo.. aight?

Eh-yo my alliance run through club cheetahs

Rusty Heaterz that bust like lyrical heat seekers

Through the speakers, non-believers are deceivers

Do the media, lyrics try to teach ya

A walk through Harlem like Black Ceaser

Razor blade stashed inside a sole of my sneaker

Ill graphics, far from a savage

The streets is wicked like Halloween havoc

Little children with automatics

Imagine baby's drive-bys in a carriage

Rap busters like Peter Pan

Or built like Sandman on a desert land

I'm from Shaolin, my sword is a mic stand

Used to swoll ya glands, 9th Prince'll take command

Of the stage, my heart pumps rage

Like a jungle lion trapped inside a cage

I free the slaves through the +Airwaves+

A Hot 97 airplay

All my real soldiers, raise ya AK's and hand grenades

Word the fuck up

The 9th Prism

The new millenium

Peace and blessins to all the 5 Boroughs

Brooklyn, Manhatten, Staten

Word up, Queens, you know?

Long Island, up state, Connecticut

The whole tri-state, New Jerz'

Peace and blessins to Killarm'

We armed and dangerous

For real, the new millenium

Get ready, one love

Two guns, three lives