[Chorus 2X: all] If you know the name, say it, if you feel it then display it This is Napalm, nigga, Napalm, nigga If the streets is watching, and they seeing what we doing This is Napalm, nigga, Napalm, nigga
[Dom Pachino] Yo, I don't wanna hurt nobody, but if I have to You damn right, I'mma blast duke And ask you, why you made me do this shit Cuz your ignorant ass ain't no when to quit Oh you unhappy, on some some old gangsta shit Put out and let it spit, and, empty the clip But umm, I don't wanna catch a body All I came to do is party, on some lodi dodi Lodi dodi, and spin off with a hotty Kid, I've been here, I ain't gotta prove no point You have no wins here, you be disappointed Getting paper ain't paper, you got work, then work it I'm underground but I gotta rise to the surface I'm getting money on purpose, I start to see it Like street money ain't worth it, cuz my freedom ain't worth it But my seed gotta eat, and my ends gotta meet Some how I see how it's worth it Don't make me hurt you on no bullshit Cuz if that's the case, you'll definetly see a full clip
[Chorus 2X]
[Chapel] Yo, you'll never see it clear, bitch ass, you need ya glasses You washed up, rhymes on track, it just clashes Heading down the wrong way, follow on my pad This is so forth, later on, your style be out scanning Team Napalm, steady, have you ready like a firearm Strong enough to rip through, materials of tephlon I'm blessed on this earth, with a murderous verse Turn a scene all trash when my words disperse It's a knowledge for the self, that I'm fiending to search Livewire be my right hand that guard the turf Think your team look funny like the burners burst We can do it all day all verse for verse And my universal travel down different sights of outskirts I feel raw chills when I clips insert Empty out real fast, son, you lay in the dirt This is Team Napalm, competition get murked, boy
[Chorus 2X]
[Crunch Lo] Yo, catch me, nine to five, a dime for dime Graduated to the doves, plus I mingle with the thugs On hot blocks, with hot boys and big gun toys And such, mic in my hand, til it erodes and rust Dust my shoulder off, cuz I feel like a pimp Creeping in the dark, puffing on a big spliff This is Crunch Lo-ology, getting money's a part of me Never grinding hard, I mask up for robberies Apologies to my Earth'll turn her sour The streets got me, ma, enlightened by baby pa Ghetto Superstar, like I'm Pras and Ol' Dirt Bitch ass niggas get hit by their skirt Feel my hurt and my pain, on paper I let it rain Blazing off the heat like I playing Max Payne Credit my grain, for making me real rounded Strong as an ox, plus I'm equal well grounded
