There's a bulletin - state police, Princeton Junction"



"The militia...

Certain individuals of unidentified nature

is now under complete control"



"Hip-hop is not, what it is today.."



"It's the real *echoes*... it's the (militia)"



Verse one: Big Shug



If heads only knew how I felt about the rap game

They'd relocate, and change their fuckin name

I eradicate movefakers, roll with coat shakers

Give dap to mad money makers

Shared cells with lifetakers, have sex with rumpshakers

I make moves so I'ma earthquaker

I've been known to instill fear

Although the world may be round, we still trapped in the square

City light, got me buggin and trife

Some die by the gun, some die by the knife

It's alright, like a game of spades I'm trump tight

Premier hit me with music to ensure that it thump right

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 will shower

with the knowledge of my trade to get paid

Still I make moves like a snake in the grass, roundabout

I be dickin it down while you be assed out

Puff mad L's but never passed out

And if I'm caught up in a jam I blast my way out

There'll be no lettin up, just straight shuttin up

or we'll start the wettin up

Lyrical infrared sceptor never miss you

Big Shug, Guru, Freddie Foxxx, The Militia, militia



Chorus: Freddie Foxxx



Everybody's spittin it, the rhyme is hot

Cause it's Big Shug, Guru, and Freddie the Foxxx

When Premier bring the beats, no it just don't stop

It's The Militia *echoes*



Chorus



Verse Two: Guru



Yo; 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, til everybody knows

that I got more flows than Rosebud got hoes

The anger inside had me trapped

til I got geared up with raps to tear you up like big gats

for big stacks, watch your back when I send em in

Caught you tremblin, my name and face you're rememberin

Several attempts, but nah bitch, you'll never win

Rhymes pierce your skin or maybe limbs we'll be severin

Take you to the mat, peep that, you should keep back

My ill-kid 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 shit; fully loaded glock clips

So get the fuck out 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

En guard, choose your weapon, or get to steppin

Lyrical bullets make you dance from the trance you be kept in

Assessments are 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 stalked ya, your fam'll miss ya

The war's on, that's why we formed The Militia



Chorus



Verse Three: Freddie Foxxx



You niggaz owe me for my rhymes, I come to collect

For you dope fiend niggaz in rap, I here to inject, check

My style is water baby, spread it around

But when you niggaz don't flow it right and fuck up my sound

I get down; in '89 I spit the buck in the face

of every MC that came in the place, a scar you'll never erase

MC's are only recognized for their flows

I'm worldwide for the bitches, that I turned into hoes

You heard me spit it on Jew-elz, that's how it goes

For all them faking ass niggaz and how I bust up they nose

And while your, nose is drippin, and drainin blood

I be standing over you screamin, "Nigga, WHAT, WHAT?! Nigga WHAT?!"

Niggas feel my presence, like I'm right in 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 its twin .40 calibre Walther PPK's

I'm in the control of my game, you must respect me like The Ref

Uh-huh, you disrespect *gun clicks* you get the tech

I turn you fake niggaz on and off, like I'm the clapper

I rob so many niggaz, they should call me Jack the Rapper

I'll the illest nigga doing this, dead or alive

Gloria Gaynor on you motherfuckers, I Will Survive

You can try to come at me, but do you want the kick back?

You snap inside the cage of a pit, and you get bit back, huh

My war is so tight, my drama so ill

Beef with me hangs around like a unpaid bill

I push these lyrics through any MC, and make it burn

So the niggaz 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 what up, what's up?

I got stripes while you got strikes and bogus mikes

Do what bitch niggaz do best *UTFO sample* bite

You niggaz can't make up a law that I don't overrule, overthrow

Prim' brought Bumpy these tracks 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