Is a bulletin from the State Police, Princeton Junction. It was a militia. Threatened individuals of unidentified nature is now under complete control. Hey, hip-hop is not what it is today. It's the real, real. It's the militia. If fans only knew how I felt about the rap game. They relocate and change their *** name. I eradicate mood fakers, roll with coke shakers. Get dapped and mad money makers. Shared cells with life takers. Had *** with rum shaker. I make moves on my nerve quaker. I've been known to instill fear. Although the world may be round, we still trapped in the square. City life, got me buggin' and trite. Some die by the gun, some die by the knife. It's alright, like a game of spades and trump tight. Premier hit me with music to assure that it's alright. And my flight will be taken solely at night. Cause that's when the freaks come out, no doubt. And in the dark hours is when I was showered. With the knowledge of my trait to get paid. Still I make moves like a snake in the grass, roundabout. I'll be dicking it down while you be asked out. Pump mad L's whenever passed out. And if I'm caught up in the jam, I blast my way out. There'll be no letting up. Just straight shutting up. Or we'll start duetting up. Lyrical infrared set to never miss ya. Big Shug Guru, Freddy Fox, the militia. Everybody's thinking that the rhyme is hot. Cause it's Big Shug Guru and Freddy the Fox. When Premier bring the beats, no it just don't stop. It's the militia. Everybody's betting that the rhyme is hot. Cause it's Big Shug Guru and Freddy the Fox. When Premier bring the beats, no it just don't stop. It's the militia. I ain't one to succumb to no man, but to command. And scoop up the troops when it's time to take a stand. Emphatically, deep strategies leave casualties. I creep gradually, till everybody knows. That I got more flows than Rosebud got hoes. The hanger inside had me trapped. Till I got geared up with raps to tear you up. Like big gats for big stacks. Watch your back when I send them in. Coffee trembling, my name and face you're remembering. Several attempts, but nah bitch, you'll never win. Rhymes pierce your skin or maybe limbs will be severing. Take it to the mat, beat that, you should keep back. My Hillkid format will lay you flat like a doormat. That I walk on, I meditate while you talk on. And gossip, so I drop my hot ***. Fully loaded Glock clips, so get the *** up my block kid. As nights turn to days, days go back to nights. We be speaking it right and keeping it tight up in the street life. I meet life head on, no holds barred. Born with a heart of gold, now mostly cold and scarred. Unguard, choose your weapon or get to stepping. Lyrical bullets make you dance from the trance you be kept in. Assessments I made before and during combat. I master my hunger, blow the spot when I bomb cats. One of us equals many of us. Disrespect one of us, you'll see plenty of us. Conflict is what I predict. You and your fellas is mad jealous, attempting to flare. We cleverly stalk ya, your fam will miss ya. The war's on, that's why we form the Militia. Everybody's making it, the rhyme is hot. Cause it's Big Sugar, Guru and Freddy the Fox. When Premier bring the beats, no it just don't stop. It's the Militia. You niggas only for my rhymes. I come to collect for you dope-themed niggas in rap. I'm here to inject, check. My style is water, baby, spread it around. But when you niggas don't flow it right and *** up my sound, I get down. In 89 I spit the buck in the face of every MC that came into place. A scar you'll never erase. MC's are only recognized for their flows. I'm worldwide for the bitches that I turnt in the hoes. You heard me spit it on 2Ls, that's how it goes. For all them faking ass niggas and how I bust up they nose. And while your nose is dripping and draining blood. I'll be standing over you screaming, Nigga, what, what, what, what? Niggas feel my presence like I'm riding they palm. Cause a stormy day is coming when you see me so calm. It's on. No more twin glocks, they jam up my plays. Now it's twin 40 caliber warped up PPKs. I'm in control of my game, you must respect me like the ref. Uh-huh, you disrespect, you get the tech. I turn you fake niggas on and off like I'm the clapper. I rob so many niggas, they should call me Jack the Rapper. I'm the illest nigga doing this, dead or alive. Gloria Gaynor on you mother***ers, I will survive. You can try to come at me, but do you want the kickback? You snap inside the cage of a pit and you get bit back. My water so tight, my drama so ill. Beef with me, it hangs around like an unpaid bill. I push these lyrics through NEMC and make it burn. So the niggas who be rhyming next will miss a turn. When you speak of who's the dopest MC, I don't come up. But when you speak of who's the livest MC, I stay one up. What's up? I got strikes, why you got strikes and bonus mics? Do what bitch niggas do best, bite. You niggas can't make up a law that I don't overrule, overthrow. Cream brought bumpy this track so I can let you know. Before I slide, I'ma leave you this jewel. Even mechanics walk around with they tools, it's the militia.