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Owen Chaim

My Ninjas
Artist(s): Owen Chaim

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Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 25% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 25% / Owen Chaim (SOCAN) 50%


Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 50% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 50%


Category:
Urban


Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap


Keywords:
Aggressive, Angry, Back Alley, Brash, Brooding, Crew, Crude, Dangerous, Defiant, Eerie, Frightening, Gang, Gritty, Hostile, Humorous, Mean, Menacing, Murder, Nasty, Ominous, Posse, Rough, Rowdy, Rumble, Scary, Streets, Threatening, Tough, Trouble, Underground, Unpredictable, Vicious, Violent, Vulgar, Wild


Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Synths


BPM:
84


Key:
F♯/G♭


Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo


Time Signature:
4/4


Lyrics:
My Ninjas

CHORUS
My ninjas wear black black black
they don't got swords, what they got go clack clack clack clack
brass knuckles make your ribs crack crack crack crack
body shots make your head snap back back back back

VERSE 1
Black mask, black gloves, blast slugs, single handed
Other hand the middle finger up your girl that's where she landed
and she rub it right, all night, lick it like a lollipop
All I see's the top of her head like it's a barbershop

So don't get heated cuz the bucket chose a heavy hitter
the whole crew hit her and dumped her like cheap liquor
We could pop glocks, or throw fists, any or all
When we roll through turning high noon to night fall

CHORUS
My ninjas wear black black black
They don't got swords, what they got go clack clack clack clack
Brass knuckles make your ribs crack crack crack crack
Body shots make your head snap back back back back

VERSE 2
High off dust, snatching collars, choking throats
Rock the boat, no survivors, under the black smoke
Body count for the toe tags and body bags
Check yourself before the sawed off shotty bangs

The block is hot, squeezing burners, raise the temperature
Hollow points hit ya, leave ya holy without the scripture
Rip ya, bone and flesh, rush to where the cash is
All this while I take toke and dust the ashes

CHORUS
My ninjas wear black black black
They don't got swords, what they got go clack clack clack clack
Brass knuckles make your ribs crack crack crack crack
Body shots make your head snap back back back back

BRIDGE
What you ready for, getting raw, hit the floor
What you ready for, getting raw, hit the floor
What you ready for, getting raw, hit the floor
Taking all you got still looking for more

What you ready for, getting raw, hit the floor
What you ready for, getting raw, hit the floor
What you ready for, getting raw, hit the floor
Run up in your spot taking all that you got

VERSE 3
Creepin' through the territory, markin it up
Roll heavy like blunts sparkin it up
Short fuse, lose ya life, by the barrel or knife
Heating up like ya standing over lighters in a crack pipe

Get your facts right, know the rules, and who rules the streets
Straight up and down in the flesh, play for keeps
So gimme dat, that's how I'm living
Sniffing lines from the cleavage all the way down to the kitten



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