("Full Metal Jacket" sample) It is your killer instinct which must be harnessed if you expect to survive in combat. Your rifle is only a tool. It is a hard heart that kills. If your killer instincts are not clean and strong you will hesitate at the moment of truth. You will not kill.
(Intro) I'm almost there, don't cry yet I'm almost there, don't cry yet I'm almost there Yo, ayo
(Hook) 2x The guns, the ammo The camouflage commando The soldier, the range Trained in the muddy terrains The shows, the tours The groupies, fans, the whores You got the answers Yet the critics tell me what it's all for
[Dom Pachino] I'm not your role model, nah, I'm not your idol I'm not your Qu'ran, nigga, nah, I'm not your Bible I'm not your grandpapi, nigga, I'm homicidal I was under a bigger rock, a tick off a different clock Living a market that they never stocked Grew up in a place that they never shopped But yet they think they know me I'm not your dunn, son, friend, I'm not your homie But I'm an OG, been doing this for quiet some time Taught them niggas how to bag them rocks and kick rhymes Alotta cats came up off this Terrorist shit This non-fiction, and I ain't playing Jedi Mind Tricks I rhyme sick fam, don't climb up this tree you're a dead kitten Good riddance, poof be gon', I state my word is bond To forever rep Napalm, it's my badge and honor After the smoke clears from the marijuana And I'm still here; I guarantee I'm on the brink of insanity Yes, I love my self, you call it vanity What determines good music, if they scanning me? That's a crock of shit, alotta legends Took a lil time, before mothafucka hit
(Hook) 2x
[Dom Pachino] You couldn't stumble across this much talent cuz I rhyme hard Just cuz I was raised in a violent Environment, the kinda place that retire men And I'm not talking about a place for retirement But you can get some work on consignment Where the kids grow up they wanna be lineman Or a point guard And the ones that don't make it beyond something I hope I don't get caught guard Fuck a report card I'd rather be a rapper or a boxer To leave ya nose scarred when I jab ya Or bitch smack ya, elbow ya, maybe stab ya Latins be known for that shit, and what have you But don't be acting like my beats don't grab you My lyrics don't drag you, my flow don't have you In a frenzy with a black guy like Spud McKenzie I'm crazy but have the whole game in a frenzy I'm crazy but have the whole game in a frenzy
(Hook) 2x
(Outro) Nah'mean, y'all know this is real music right here, man Keep fronting man, don't front on yourself Don't lie to yourself Be original, man, have your own mind You see your man fronting let him know Don't be on yes man shit, uh-huh, ok And you know the truth nigga Speak what you feel
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Copy to Clipboard: ("Full Metal Jacket" sample) It is your killer instinct which must be harnessed if you expect to survive in combat. Your rifle is only a tool. It is a hard heart that kills. If your killer instincts are not clean and strong you will hesitate at the moment of truth. You will not kill.
(Intro) I'm almost there, don't cry yet I'm almost there, don't cry yet I'm almost there Yo, ayo
(Hook) 2x The guns, the ammo The camouflage commando The soldier, the range Trained in the muddy terrains The shows, the tours The groupies, fans, the whores You got the answers Yet the critics tell me what it's all for
[Dom Pachino] I'm not your role model, nah, I'm not your idol I'm not your Qu'ran, nigga, nah, I'm not your Bible I'm not your grandpapi, nigga, I'm homicidal I was under a bigger rock, a tick off a different clock Living a market that they never stocked Grew up in a place that they never shopped But yet they think they know me I'm not your dunn, son, friend, I'm not your homie But I'm an OG, been doing this for quiet some time Taught them niggas how to bag them rocks and kick rhymes Alotta cats came up off this Terrorist shit This non-fiction, and I ain't playing Jedi Mind Tricks I rhyme sick fam, don't climb up this tree you're a dead kitten Good riddance, poof be gon', I state my word is bond To forever rep Napalm, it's my badge and honor After the smoke clears from the marijuana And I'm still here; I guarantee I'm on the brink of insanity Yes, I love my self, you call it vanity What determines good music, if they scanning me? That's a crock of shit, alotta legends Took a lil time, before mothafucka hit
(Hook) 2x
[Dom Pachino] You couldn't stumble across this much talent cuz I rhyme hard Just cuz I was raised in a violent Environment, the kinda place that retire men And I'm not talking about a place for retirement But you can get some work on consignment Where the kids grow up they wanna be lineman Or a point guard And the ones that don't make it beyond something I hope I don't get caught guard Fuck a report card I'd rather be a rapper or a boxer To leave ya nose scarred when I jab ya Or bitch smack ya, elbow ya, maybe stab ya Latins be known for that shit, and what have you But don't be acting like my beats don't grab you My lyrics don't drag you, my flow don't have you In a frenzy with a black guy like Spud McKenzie I'm crazy but have the whole game in a frenzy I'm crazy but have the whole game in a frenzy
(Hook) 2x
(Outro) Nah'mean, y'all know this is real music right here, man Keep fronting man, don't front on yourself Don't lie to yourself Be original, man, have your own mind You see your man fronting let him know Don't be on yes man shit, uh-huh, ok And you know the truth nigga Speak what you feel
NEW LYRICS 
