Cement 3's Songtext
This bomb was codenamed: The Czar

You're such an idiot. You'll never be able to contend with this opponent, why don't you lure them into the underwater graveyard?

Don't you think this is all kind of strange?

Hmm... so you know what I told him?

[Inspectah Deck]
Eyo, yo yo
Vein popper flame hotter
Raging sharp art patray popper
Blade sharper,kamikaze brain bomber
Safe in the drama darts spray your armor
You a trey eight revolver next to a 'nade launcher
Immortal technique, the rest weak
Stretch 'em like Lesnar
Deadly venom whenever Deck speak
Fresh meat. We get 'em buzzin' like XB
You can't sleep. It's like lying on wet sheets.
Nevertheless better in fact bust better than sex
My rhyme books' like a medicine chest
Son, I kill 'em like lead to the chest
Call 7 & Es (Yo let me at 'em Deck)
Whatever is next
INS spit warhead bars, Go ahead draw.
I bang your dome leave your forehead gone
Run and tell 'em "put more heads on"
Performing live in your dining room
Shining through 4x large.

Lyrics get hard quick cement
Lyrics get hard
Lyrics get hard quick cement
Lyrics get hard quick cement to the ground

Stripes on me like a tiger
Whites on me actin' hyper
Cypher then I leave a bite zombie from a viper
I'm the type to light the cell vintage low with the cookie
Buy it now do a text like a crap rookie
This is how you rap pussies, timberlands and black hoodies
Make you wanna slap Snooki
Hedge your bets call Tech your bookie
Outcall Tep my Wookie
True blood pumping through these veins no Sookie
I'm a soul searcher go berzerker
No nurturing took place I cover bitches face
With a low murker if you're less than an 8
Like off duty co-workers I'm out of my mind
Gun powder in lines
Flow like Red Wings Gordie Howe in his prime
Ya'll try to be thugs
I put signs in my bars like Ivy league pubs
(Chewbacca noise) Chewy sound "Ya'll don't wanna fool around"
House Party shit, bag a 40 like it's Cougar Town.


Come on man I feel like cuttin' loose.
*scratching feel like cuttin' loose
*scratching feel like cuttin' loose
Come on man I feel like cuttin' loose

[Roc Marciano]
Blue flames, 400 dollar jeans
The ride flee like a time machine
My regime pop Kings back around Constantine's
Under marquees breaking parquets
Park these spark up leaves
Artists, you see my name upon the Marquee
You charge a fee, crackheads watchin' G
Dom P spill out on the God car seat
Add a marks for heat with marksman expertise
Keep a tech to protect your fees
Collect tee's to to breath C's
Let the beef rest in peace
You connect at the lease and get greased
Hold that, your neck roll back
Both stacks overlap we locking every patch on the road map
The gold axe like Bobby Womack's to hold max
Go out back and get your shit blown back.


Man I haven't had this much fun since I was in reform school.