Title: And the Winner is...
Subtitle:
Artist: Competition 4
Album:
Author: Dark Overlord
Copyright:
Tabled by: Dark Overlord
Instructions:
Notices: Just follow your heart, don't listen to the crowd,
The wisdom, the voice is calling from inside.
The time long forgotten will soon come again,
Prepare for the meeting, the Gods of Metal reign!

Tempo: 120 BPM
Tracks: 6
Instruments:
Bars: 54

Lyric

[Verse 1: Pusha T]
Roll with the winners, the soul of the sinners
Which ring, which chain; the most our dilemmas
My uncles before me mixed the diesel in the blenders
Then crack came, I seen the coldest of winters
Mountains of snow -- made fiends tremor
Mink to the floor, we use the crème de la crèmes
Such a need to shimmer, the Benz got the slippers
Club owners love us call us yellow bottle grippers
Flipper? No. Whale scale tipper
I'm from a line of ex-kingpins that's turned sniffers
Pray the Lord forgive us while the maricons fill us
Up to the brim, call them the coffee bean spillers
Blasphemous, he calls kis God's pillows
Ivory white, bury me in my chinchilla
Ain't none iller, no! Ain't none realer
It's Pusha, just ya neighborhood dope dealer

[Verse 2: Ab-Liva]
You gotta love the gall on 'im
Twenty on the arm on 'im
Twenty-four inch blades, see the frame fall on 'em
Drug czar, retired, like I was Shawn on 'em
Came back to star -- Jordan as he falls
Released to score raw on 'em, 2.2 pounds exactly
Tape criss-crossed like a bra on 'em
But the streets I was marred, I was scarred on
And ride around microphone fiend with the R on 'em
I'm Bad, James Todd
On the white part of the water, my third got scalds
On the right side of my palm where the soft got hard
On the right price, give me the light, I Sean Paul on 'em
Run the city, Sean John on 'em
New Marvin, screaming "What's Going On,"
I'm trouble man, I rubberband man, push hard on them
Same block where I crawled on 'em, I'mma fall on 'em

[Verse 3: Malice]
I couldn't dare do the arm, and not the neck with it;
Jesus on the charm, show some respect with it
Don't be alarmed, if y'all don't connect with it
Something like the Arnage, if you select with it
To most a mirage, but even when I'm pinched
The boy far from dreaming, the Porsche with the vents
Tucked in the trunk let the dogs track the scent
"And I don't give a fuck," about our best defense
Catch me if you can I am ginger bread
And the mink interior is crimson red;
Y'all talk before they even mention Feds
Of how I got the block like the Dawn of the Dead
Seems amongst thieves that honor is dead
Bucking the court 'till Your Honor is dead
Y'all take heed to what is fall upon ya
You are in the presence, Re-Up, the ensemble

[Verse 4: Sandman]
You got no choice but notice me, everything I drop hard
Challenge is wiling out on opium playing dodgeball
With some bullets busting out the narrow barrel
Hitting you hard, your fate don't need no tarot --
Cards to be read, I reads about niggas like you daily, obituary;
Dead weight, my head straight, my bitch is very
Steadfast, that wet ass, ki daddy marry
Float through your city like I'm in a ferry; took the 7-60 off it
Put 8 o'clock on it, Eight-Double Dot-Double Zero
Add four more, you know the time with my earlobes
Niggas is mad, niggas is last, niggas is fake, niggas is late
Niggas need to be in the lake -- the bottom of it
Fuck you buck in new brick boots
With a burgundy wet suit for thinking you death proof, pussy