There's one ripped out the frame, felony act
And underground club that I play in
Militia man, man part three
You wanna have Bumpy's heart, you got to have Bumpy's chest
It's the militia
I'm sick with it, I'm built with stilts for you midgets
I'll creep on the low, keep it a secret yo
Give a nigga pain
I swore an oath to dump on you, out the Jeep window
You're gonna need more than a lot of tattoos on y'all
We told you rap cats we would keep it poppin'
I know you cram to understand the plan but you too
Everybody get the fuck up, welcome me back
I'll bust mics till I have just enough breath
We bought you this book of torture, this one is Capture
I'll bust right till I find just Bumpy left
Put your money in the bank and hold rank
With a lust for the gravy, you know the God must be crazy
See men and strap ya, cock back and blast ya
Listen to a brother who knows
Blow up your fuckin' house while we still lookin' at ya
Listen to a brother who knows
See, all I got is a lot of bad news for y'all
Niggaz come to my suite to pick up heat
I'm a warrior, niggaz screamin' "Bumpy shot Cyrus"
And fuck your goons, 'cause we always get what we're after
If you don't know the equation then you can't do the math
We the champs, not really to boast and brag
I spit raw verses that y'all ain't sayin'
I'm checked in to every hotel that you lay in
It's the militia
You got an army, you still ain't got no wins against us
Capture, duct tape rapture, slapped ya
And you could catch it, some royal heat from the snub
Broken arms, shattered glasses, whipped asses
I'm the unseen hand that controls two hundred niggaz
To take your heart, it's thug grand death
You're gonna need more than doo rags and Timb's against us
First name Vete, last name Ran
That'll show up on stage, puffin' on contraband
Black mags to blow your whole chest in half
It's capture, get out the truck, I'm keepin' your wheels
While you fidget, you could get kill't for your digits
Y'all know who buck fifty your face, I'm keepin' it concealed
Served up my Venus and Serenes, cocked back
I don't care if you a geek or a thug, you sleepin' on us
Clapped ya, to Internet emcees I'm virus
Since the streets is watchin' niggaz might see us often
Caught up in the rapture, front and we will capture
Put your money in the bank and hold rank
I drop bombs hit you with the curse of Jevron
It's the real, it's the Militia
I push these lyrics through any emcee
Just to feed the babies I'll infect you like rabies
I leave my hardcore demeanor in every rap arena
Listen to a brother who knows
I advise you to tell us where the cash is
Bustin' heads, body bags and toe tags
Parked while on the street out of unseen vans
And make it burn
'Cause your soul was bought for what they payin'
It's capture, 'cause you've got a gun, you never conceal
Give a nigga pain
Itchy fingers cause nothing but gun fire
Y'all know who wrote the Bible in rap, for keepin' it real
We disallow all these cats in the camp
Give a nigga pain
Put your money in the bank and hold rank
I'm the law of the land, the rawness of man
Give a nigga pain
