Another banging track now from Steady and Efeks alongside Crusada. “Meet Ya Maker” sees some catchy guitar strings, a sick chorus and standardly quality flow. Don’t miss out. Peace.
VERSE 1:
EFEKS
- Welcome to the Dark Side.
- Meet Ya Maker.
- It’s the strings of death.
- Special Efeks and Crusada.
- It’s the year of the locust, I’m killing the crop,
- MCs close your homes but I’m picking the lock,
- You’re a second hand jam, I’m the pick of the lot,
- Molten lava; my bars are sizzling hot,
- Stop the bloodclaart grime when you’re marked for death,
- Darts, I blast them, do more than just scar your flesh,
- I’m the last one left, keep my castor chest,
- And if you ask if I’m dark, then your answer’s yes,
- I’m the master of ceremony and only the strong survive,
- Government agents plot my demise,
- The Messiah, and on the third day I will rise,
- Righteous teacher, benevolent, intelligent, wise,
- You can analyse my eyes and see the fire burning,
- Never rest, I climb Everest for higher learning,
- Turning the tables, young, willing and able,
- To raise cane/Cain with mics connected by cable,
CHORUS:
- Meet ya maker,
- We spitting them darts sharp as razors,
- Special Efeks and Crusada,
- Letting you taste the new flavor,
- We do it for the love of the art,
- And you sharks do it for paper.
VERSE 3:
CRUSADA
- A sixteen, transported to your maker,
- Stealth ? gipsy won’t see me on your radar,
- Hsst. Hotter than the run from grenade,
- Catch me at the DMC chilling with the breakers,
- 3 mouths to feed, I’m hungry for the paper,
- Sharp verses, I just slice through the fakers,
- Haters, they get the sound wiped swiftly,
- You scream Hip Hop but your tracks sound like Britney,
- Crusada, Efeks and Rock Steady,
- Your arms are too short to box, you ain’t ready,
- Rhyme heavy, on beats that keep pounding,
- Catch me in the lab lounging,
- Drinking a Becks,
- Puffing a Cuban,
- Blowing heat on the track,
- With heat-seeking darts have you spinning on your back,
- You dudes best behave when I land, blood relax,
- When West meets South in the game it’s called a (w)rap!
CHORUS
VERSE 3: EFEKS- Meet ya maker,
- I’m greater, the heavenly creator,
- Tired and ? we blaze haze in Jamaica,
- The Alpha, Beta, Gamma to Omega,
- I spit raps, split bags, like ?,
- The ark-raider, Darth Vader, last savior,
- Real genuine draft, I laugh later,
- You cry now but arse-rape you with a mic stand,
- Nice sense and advice was put in my right hand,
- The right man to get you out of a tight jam,
- Bless you with heat, then you leave with a slight tan,
- I’m running on road, wyling out in a white van,
- Holding my own, ain’t no need for a hype man,
- The lone soldier with bold shoulders I flow colder,
- You’ll be better when Hell just froze over,
- I aim and fire with more rings than a Rover,
- And bury your name like loose change in my sofa,
- It’s over
CHORUS
X4
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