Lyrics Language: English Song writer/composer(s): James Campbell, Keith Elam, Cary Guy, Christopher Martin
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Gang StarrCapture (Militia, Pt. 3) Lyrics:
Give a nigga pain
Listen to a brother who knows
Give a nigga pain
It's the real, it's the Militia
First name Vete, last name Ran
I drop bombs hit you with the curse of Jevron
Broken arms, shattered glasses, whipped asses
I advise you to tell us where the cash is
Itchy fingers cause nothing but gun fire
We disallow all these cats in the camp
We the champs, not really to boast and brag
Bustin' heads, body bags and toe tags
Black mags to blow your whole chest in half
If you don't know the equation then you can't do the math
I know you cram to understand the plan but you too
Caught up in the rapture, front and we will capture
See men and strap ya, cock back and blast ya
Blow up your fuckin' house while we still lookin' at ya
Militia man, man part three
Put your money in the bank and hold rank
Give a nigga pain
Listen to a brother who knows
I push these lyrics through any emcee
And make it burn
Put your money in the bank and hold rank
Give a nigga pain
Listen to a brother who knows
It's the militia
Just to feed the babies I'll infect you like rabies
With a lust for the gravy, you know the God must be crazy
I'm sick with it, I'm built with stilts for you midgets
While you fidget, you could get kill't for your digits
I'll creep on the low, keep it a secret yo
I swore an oath to dump on you, out the Jeep window
I don't care if you a geek or a thug, you sleepin' on us
And you could catch it, some royal heat from the snub
Since the streets is watchin' niggaz might see us often
We told you rap cats we would keep it poppin'
See, all I got is a lot of bad news for y'all
You're gonna need more than a lot of tattoos on y'all
You got an army, you still ain't got no wins against us
You're gonna need more than doo rags and Timb's against us
And fuck your goons, 'cause we always get what we're after
We bought you this book of torture, this one is Capture
Put your money in the bank and hold rank
Give a nigga pain
Listen to a brother who knows
It's the militia
There's one ripped out the frame, felony act
Everybody get the fuck up, welcome me back
I'm the unseen hand that controls two hundred niggaz
Parked while on the street out of unseen vans
I'm the law of the land, the rawness of man
That'll show up on stage, puffin' on contraband
Capture, duct tape rapture, slapped ya
Served up my Venus and Serenes, cocked back
Clapped ya, to Internet emcees I'm virus
I'm a warrior, niggaz screamin' "Bumpy shot Cyrus"
I'm checked in to every hotel that you lay in
Niggaz come to my suite to pick up heat
Y'all know who wrote the Bible in rap, for keepin' it real
Y'all know who buck fifty your face, I'm keepin' it concealed
It's capture, get out the truck, I'm keepin' your wheels
It's capture, 'cause you've got a gun, you never conceal
I leave my hardcore demeanor in every rap arena
And underground club that I play in
I spit raw verses that y'all ain't sayin'
'Cause your soul was bought for what they payin'
You wanna have Bumpy's heart, you got to have Bumpy's chest
I'll bust right till I find just Bumpy left
I'll bust mics till I have just enough breath
To take your heart, it's thug grand death
Capture
Lyrics: Capture (Militia, Pt. 3), Gang Starr [end]
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The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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