Lyrics
"I Don't Battle, I War!" (A-LEX-ANDER THE GREAT)
Verse #1:
Be clear! I ain't a killa, but when put in that position//
where it's either you or me? It ain't even a decision.//
Some talk before they listen,/ (and) never keep they're mouths close.// (and)
Certain n*** s won't quit until you beat they're mouth close.//
Or 'til run up in their househould/ and leave his their mouth froze.//
Like, "First one to make a move catch one is his Southpole".//
This ain't a wild wild western, and you ain't a one-shot clapper.//
(Nah) n*** you yellow, and you soft you's a Spongebob rapper.//
Now I'm @ you every last second, minute and hour.//
until the waving of white flags, and throwing in of towels.//
You a hustler? How?/ Only thing you moved was bowels,//
and the only O's you came in contact with were vowels.// (lol)
Cowards get stretched out, label it "LEXercise".//
Especially when ya team is faker than their favorite wrestlers.// (lol)
Son, I'll have you hit by that same n*** that sittin' next to ya.//
Betcha he'll be alarmed/ when set up by ya baby mom's.// This is war!!
Hook:
Nah, see I don't claim I'm hard,//
but "there's a time for peace and a time for war".//
So, nah I ain't no killa, I'm about my scrilla, but somebody//
betta come and get 'em 'fore I hit 'em. I don't battle, I war!!//
See I don't wanna spray these n*** s,// but I (War!)
I feel I need to pray for these n*** s.// Cuz I (War)
Nah, I'm no Guerilla, I'm about my scrilla, but somebody//
betta come and get 'em 'fore I hit 'em. I don't battle, I war!!//
Verse #2:
Now I don't know what made you choose me homie,//
and don't care. You betta hope I stay on looseleaf homie.//
Though I can send some Paper Planes, and have you M.I.A.// (Get it?)
In Jamaica Bay for days for a few Gs homie.//
(I'm) not new to beef homie, (but) usually shake off n*** s.//
Restrained the train from running away, but now the brake's off n*** .//
(See) I'm from East New York, Brooklyn, where we face off n*** .//
We either pop, poke, or we beat the face off n*** s.//
Hit' ya like Adolf n*** .// Man this clown is like bread;
you got hard after a while, but should've stayed soft n*** .// (pause)
Know lil' shorties who hang around/ witt that tre pound,/
and they'll sing you a lullabye. Call dat Trey Songz n*** .//
'Cuz it's like an art to them.// So we called 'em the carptenters,//
cuz their hammers'll hit the head and nail you to ya carpet son.//
See y'all snakes up in the grass, but once you rattle it's on,//
cuz I don't talk, I don't fight, I don't battle, I war!//
(Hook)
Verse #3:
Now, what's beef?? Beef is what Big Poppa named on wax.//
What's else is beef?? Beef is shootouts with the cops blasting.//
Is this beef?? Nah, this a n*** that copy cats me.//
and like the clock is running out, he quick to take shots @ me.// (but)
Nah n*** you don't want it./ Yeah, he soon to forfiet.//
'fore I send him to his fam leave 'em like "Damn, dude look awkward."//
Immediately have to move the reunion to near a pulpit//
in a church via hearse for the viewing of his coffin.//
Beautiful daughter/ is now often viewed as an ophan.//
Crew sad, but I'm like, "What? I told you we would off him."//
Should've put a muzzle on him.// Shouts to BIG,
but try and stick me for my paper I'll give you more than a Warning//
You'll be losing ya body fluid.// Then ya body'll turn bluish.//
Now you wishing there was somebody that would stop me from body'n you and//
then you see that white light as ya body goes to it.//
I pray you meet somebody betray by Judas.//
(Hook)
