War Games O.C. (Ft. Organized Konfusion)

[Intro: Pharoahe Monch & O.C.]
War Games
War Games
Uh, yeah, uh, uh, uh, what?
Crooklyn Dodger Number 2, O.C
Yeah, back on the scene, motherfuckers
Me and Primo, you know?
East New York, Bushwick
Bed-Stuy, and all those good places
Yo

[Verse 1: O.C.]
My main frame disciplined like a soldier
Ready for war, pushups get my chest swole up
What’s the deal, Preem? I mean the scheme
I think I got it locked in, nigga, War Games is the theme
Rap commando, what’s my handle?
O.C. ample to rock shit, battle niggas who pop shit
Green beret, thoughts slicker, I’m one step ahead
Slide through enemy lines like a black Ac’ Vigor,
Camouflage, running through your zone with no detection
‘Cause the dark-skinned marksman run through your section
Flesh and bones, physical built like titanium
Garbs cover my grill like Iranians
Ill gorilla, so-called killers
I fear no man but Allah, for the guidance he instill in us
The Renaissance Man, I blow up like grenades
Sharp like Gemstars, cause massive scars
O.C.’s all in it, dope I’ve been for years
Now I’m back on the scene, and I declare War Games