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"Iron Age" lyrics by KA
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"Iron Age"
[feat. Roc Marci]

[Hook x2: Ka]
Born in a sinning place, mourned and been at wakes
Scorned the grinning jakes; it's on, I send the apes
Generate cake scraped off dinner plates
Niggas wanna be tough; it's us they imitate

[Verse 1: Ka]
Me and my chrome hip, long clip; put in work, won't quit
My word is bond; yours don't stick
Long as it's dough to grab, I'm a hold a mag
Load the bag, 'til I'm a helmet and a folded flag
Known peasant, roam desert, no canteens
To see if a hand green, did dirt soap can't clean
In time you'll see a thin line between friend and rival
Between you and me, stupidity amends bravado
Almost died tryna make paper, now I pen survival
Mac-10's reliable in fight mode on that night road
Zoned out on the blocks, cops iso'd
Raw covering, enduring suffering more like Job
Here's a flashback: stash packs by the light pole
Recipe's desperately press keys like I write code
No typo; I'm quick-witted, you type slow
Promoters call me Moses by how I spark and leave
Notice, come through the crowd, my staff parts the sea
Make fly jams for live fans that's hard to please
You was badly trained while I parry, feint, bob and weave
In rough waters, niggas bolt; I stay and never waver
Y'all all sweet; I'm more unique with a better flavor
If my phonetics don't take, then I'm a net a caper
Carry the heat, reppin' Hull Street then Decatur
Stayed in hell all my life; I need heaven's visa
Know what's right, but can't change overnight like Ebenezer

[Hook x2]

[Verse 2: Roc Marciano]
I'm flattered; guys are fried ad battered
Housewives are battered, knives are jagged
When it's static, bring and automatic to combat it
I hit the henny like it's padded; you panic
Three from the cannon trample you like a wooly mammoth
The minivan vanished, I burn 'til my eyes slanted
Me and Ka set a higher standard
The money got sent through a wire transfer
Ferrari body like exotic dancers'
Eat you from the inside like cancer
I'm a panther, you real prissy and pampered
Lyrically, to me, you're a pamper
My stanzas, I gotta hand 'em out to fiends like samplers
But honestly, I should've went to Stanford
But what I learned from scrambling ain't in the pamphlet
Gotta keep a tool like repairman (yep)
Can't afford to be or move careless
Niggas'll put that Mac-10 to your spare ribs
You heard a prophet spoke
I'm from the projects; to get by I sold dope
Had high hopes for folks that got high on coke
But used to be responsible adults
Fell from grace, in love with the way freebase taste
From the hoods of L.I. to B.K

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