Weak Stomach (Zilla Rocca Remix) f/ Curly Castro

from by Zilla Rocca & The 5 O'Clock Shadow Boxers

/

lyrics

["Blast of Silence" clip]
Just one more killing then you're through
One more to die, and then you won't have to be alone...

[Zilla Rocca]
My man said he had a weak st-st-stomach
The Twilight is Slow, now we run it
We gladiate and salivate, shit is never great
Shoot up your movie theater, South Philly Christmas Day
There's no coming attractions when I run up and blast it
A garbage bag on death's door, pack it
In like Flynn, the kingpin shoots black dice
Karma won't ask nice, act right
Motherfuckers doing magic on Star Search
Well take a look inside a book like Levar Burt'
Man my heart hurts, and murmurs and beats now
Peel off wigs like Bush/Cheney decals
God lives in the details
Paint me with a broad stroke, I'm a ghost, I don't beast out
My man does that, I don't kick rough raps
This is Living Proof, give me Dap, you're a Nutcrack-er

[Chorus]
Don't speak to the weak of heart
These weak motherfuckers never play their part
Don't speak to the weak of heart
Don't eat on a weak stomach, play your part

[Curly Castro]
Yeah dead moon on New Year's Eve
Roll with Ali Baba and the Beat Garden of Thieves
I'm allergic to the bullshit so pardon my sneeze
Spit 30 Days of Night, leave the city to bleed
No silence, leave prints, fuck CSI
Roll with Morgan and the Frat, shoot wings off flies
Hybrid, share a bed with Beckinsale
Me and Rocca Broke Clocks, now you're Nullified
Beards past five o'clock cause we never shave
Never raise on a bet when the count is off
Weak stomach from that arsonic and old lace
Them old bitches is safe, they was never caught
Run Sin City in some charcoal Chucks
Cause I'm selfish at heart, not giving a fuck
Had a nightcap with hip hop, the chivalry stuck
Threw a roofie in H.E.R. drink, got her throwing it up

[Chorus]
Don't speak to the weak of heart
These weak motherfuckers never play their part
Don't speak to the weak of heart
Don't eat on a weak stomach, play your part

[Zilla Rocca, Curly Castro]
I shop around for my crime rates
My $2 gas, the Delorean's in the driveway, why wait

Your garbage raps with Mr. Fusion
No better place to put it, don't look at me sideways

I got cannons that spray and they dampen your face
Recession time, rappers can't get a fucking date, no

Your ass is a dollar short and more than week's late
Petro is pricey, it saves you the gasface

I'm a blue collar comet, with shoe polish, I promise
Your crew's like a drivethru boombox, it's bollocks

Beat Garden collards for when I get my smoke on
Respect to Tupac but this ain't "The Same Song"

So take it how you wanna take it, me and Castro underrated
But David Lynch said, "They're my favorite"

We Willie and Marcus, the wolf and the hybrid
When we talk shadows, we don't let the light in

[Chorus]
Don't speak to the weak of heart
These weak motherfuckers never play their part
Don't speak to the weak of heart
Don't eat on a weak stomach, play your part

["Blast of Silence" clip]
You're not marked up, that's a break
You're sweating all over your body
You tell yourself it's the steam heat, but you know the radiator's been cold all night
You know you'll stay in this sweat till they find the body and the news breaks

credits

from Broken Clocks EP, track released March 30, 2010
Beat by Zilla Rocca
Lyrics by Zilla Rocca (S. Zales) for Three Dollar Pistol Music (ASCAP) and Curly Castro (K. McDaniel)

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Three Dollar Pistol Music Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Zilla Rocca, the bottle breaker, corner store crusher, dime store detective, pulp fiction sage, comic book kingpin, the noir-hop creator.

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