Ja Rule – 300

Ja Rule

Lyrics

Ja Rule – 300

Intro: Samples from 300

Daxos: This battle is over, Leonidas
Leonidas: Battle is over when I say it is over
Stelios: We are with you sire, to the death
Leonidas: SPARTANS! PREPARE FOR GLORY!

Verse 1: Ja Rule

DIE MOTHERFUCKER, DIE!
That’s what I’ma say to him
Right before I send him to meet mama and Jesús
Them choppers’ll pop
Through the roof of the Roadster
I don’t only spit Ether, niggas, I Takeover
Like Nas and Young Hova
Rule the lone soldier
Fuck peace, I grill more beef than George Foreman, warnin’
Us niggas is wanted like warrants
My bitch, my whips be foreign
Aston Martin DB9, with a dime bitch from Harlem, I’m
Just a product of my environment, right?
Like Preme, the calmest cat
My dream is to get back to ’89 when movin’ crack wasn’t a set back
In due time, I’ll refine the level of excellence
And plaques won’t be nothin’ but evidence
Rewind the present, before rap was relevant
When my aspirations was to be the next D-boy in the projects
Nah bitch, hustler
Turnt professional rap star, motherfucker
Trap stars on the come up
Now Feds claimin’ we more cleanin’ cash than a washer
So let me get to washin’ up, nigga smarten up
That soft white get to hardenin’ up
We hit the block, move it two for one
Motherfuckers ya done for
We comin’ for you, niggas die slow
It’s Murder still, just thought you should know

Verse 2: Newz & Ja Rule

40 cal. or Lark him up
Stiff him up, starch him up
Gem star, carve him up
Catch him while he parkin’ up
(GET ‘EM!) I beat him down, then I stomp him up (yeah)
Whip his ass ’til his blood start coughin’ up
(BLOCK GANG!) We the wrong tree to be barkin’ up (ugh)
Shit, I was sleep, why the fuck these niggas start me up?
(GET ‘EM!) I turn that coupe to a coffin (uh huh)
One out the Larkin’ll turn his ass to a Dolphin (BLA-OUW!)
A hit of this kush’ll turn his ass to a martian (you know)
A word from the boss’ll turn his son to a orphan
So, DIE MOTHERFUCKER, DIE!
You damn right, Ja
Come through in that coupe with the chopper
And go RRRAAA RRRAAA
You niggas mad, you ain’t go get ya gun yet
I heard you snitchin’, lucky I ain’t rip out ya tongue yet
Been rappin’ 7 years, nigga, I ain’t have fun yet
Been pitchin’ 6 summers, I ain’t get a Cy Young yet (nah)
You got that work a week ago, but shit you ain’t done yet (‘ssup?)
Nigga I play the bar and do a hundred in one set
(GET ‘EM!) You know ya boy losin’ threat
You goin’ against me you gon’ lose, nigga, bet
I got enough dope money, I can fuel the jet
Your boy Young Newz handle birds like a vet
‘erinarian, young barbarian
Somebody rose Marion ’cause I’m about to bury ’em, bury ’em

Verse 3: Tre

I am the definition of it (what?), murder
So (?) that’s what I’m representin’
What you get I catch you slippin’, murder
Niggas best give us our recognition
Yo I’m from the muh’fuckin’ district, I’ll murder you
(?), murder land, (?)
No mercy for any person goin’ versus, it’s curtains
It’s curtains, these ain’t just verses if you wonderin’
I done the dirt I’m shovelin’, you want some on ya coffin lid?
Certainly, (?), Tre hundred (c’mon)
Your numbers mean nothin’, it can be one or whoever want it
I’ll have ya rebels runnin’, burnin’ like the devil done it (haha)
Fuck your army, tell ’em that I’m comin’, hah
So get prepared for me, partna
How dare niggas threaten me
(?)’ll kill ya colony like Kamikaze bombers, opposite of Dalai Lama
Here comes apocalypse, kill all the drama
Toss ’em in the deep sea like Men of Honor
I bring more noise than Nirvana (yeah)
‘Cause I’ma bring my boys, and my boys gon’ bring them toys
And them toys gon’ pierce your armor
I was born into problems and then taught a way to solve ’em
So I shot ’em, now he’s goin’ goin’, gone

Verse 4: Merc Montana

Yo, it’s still Murder, still ridin’ with the weapon on me
It’s 3 niggas with 3 K’s, it’s whatever homie
A hundred round drum, boy, I ain’t playin’ with ya
That’s 300 shots, 300 niggas layin’ with ya
I’m a marksman, I’m heartless
Moms and pops died, had to fend for myself, became a Spartan
Taught to throw in a cartridge, shoot the head off a target
Knife game like O.J., who want problems, mane?
I keep a Larkin, one in the head
Once I pull it, it’s over, you’re dead, I’m ’bout my bread
It’s Merc Montana (Montana), somethin’ like Tony (Tony)
Broad day with the K (OKAY!), who want it?
Fuck it, it’s whatever when it come to the game
It’s pure white when it come to that ‘caine, I’m a hustler mane
It’s the prince in this, not a coincidence
Once I get a word, niggas lay down stiff ’cause it’s
(Mpire!) your boy, I’m on fire
Act up, you’ll get left like Bodie on The Wire, (shit!)
2 in the head, he dead, it’s over with (NAH!)
It ain’t over ’til we say that it’s over with, Murder!

Outro: Gerald Butler from 300

Leonidas: SPARTANS! PREPARE FOR GLORY!

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