Three Blades No Mercy

Bitch I’m back spittin’ venom, let me carve up the scene,

Stick boy talkin’ slick with them twig-ass genes.

Ran his mouth like he tough, but he soft as his chin,

I’ll peel his ego open, slice that shit paper-thin.

Fat fuck sittin’ next to him, laughin’ like a clown,

Two broke jokes tryna swing up, get smacked back down.

You said I “don’t do nothin’”? Boy, you ain’t done shit—

I work circles ‘round your corpse, you can’t match this spit.

Now you runnin’ to production? That’s cute, lil’ ho,

Hope karma folds your life up like clothes in a row.

I’m a sniper in the rafters, takin’ heads clean off—

Both you bitches gettin’ bodied when I chamber this shot.

⸻

Oni steppin’ in heavy, let me grind these pests,

Stick boy barkin’ loud ‘cause his life’s a fuckin’ mess.

Tryna clown Samurai? Boy, you fucked up bad—

I’ll drag you by your pride, beat your spine through the pad.

Fat fuck sittin’ smirkin’? Yeah, laugh now, bitch—

Your whole vibe screams “failure,” life stuck on glitch.

You think you bruised his ego? You ain’t built for that war—

Samurai stood there smilin’, you shook straight to your core.

Production runner? Bro, you barely run your mouth—

Career headin’ one direction: down, down, down south.

Talk tough on the floor, but you fold under heat—

I’ll stomp both you motherfuckers through the goddamn concrete.

⸻

Ronin walkin’ in quiet, but my cuts stay loud,

Turn stick boy to confetti, fat fuck to a cloud.

I don’t flex, I don’t talk, I just end shit clean—

Two bodies on the floor, call it workplace hygiene.

Stick boy fragile as glass, break him quick with a glance,

Fat boy wobblin’ behind him like he split his own pants.

You tried disrespect Samurai? That’s a death-note signed—

We the Squad, motherfucker—cross the line, get confined.

Karma comin’ for you both, with a chokehold grip,

I’ll escort you to the gates with a fingertip flip.

Three blades, one purpose—leave y’all bleedin’ unseen,

Second Shift Samurai Squad—cuttin’ fake shit clean.

⸻

HOOK (ALL MEMBERS)

Cross the Squad, get shredded—don’t care who you know,

Y’all played yourselves stupid, now it’s death in a row.

Stick boy, fat fuck—yeah, we carved y’all apart,

Three blades, one strike—Samurai cut to the heart