Theme from Schindler's List

Alright gather around, The Fleet has arrived. I want eleven Barz from all of you Naw another one Alright twelve it is Let's get it [Verse 1: Blizzard] I'm on the track just call me bolt Raps so electric, I got the volts I'll see you at the finish line These losers ain't no friends of mine The Fleet on fire, no shooting bricks Your boys at bana, man fuck your cliques Come by the water we take your chicks You front and our gats bustin' clips Pop pop, dead fuck boys Pistols loaded we making noise I came here to kill it so tell me you feel it My flow is like childish I came here to be it [Verse 2: NED] Fleet is here and we're on the prowl Our raps are wet don't need a towel We're shooting hoops and we draw the foul Feel free to judge us, no Simon Cowell Top of our game, we're empire state We're walking tall, we're never lame We're bringing yeast with us on our rise to fame And if you tryna stop us just get out the way Irrational. So irrational I'm waiting to see this go national Got bats in the back of the whip and you know if your crew show up that we bash em' all [Verse 3: IDontNeedAName] Back in action like Looney tunes Or Rocky Balboa looking eighty-two Love it or hate it, if Raymond met Chris It's me and you if I 'Schindled' the list We speak in code since back in the day Like in San Frisco down in the bay Ghost wrote your verse like a sous chef If I butchered the beef I'd find loose neck Had to dumb it down to stay in your lane Went so hard they thought I'd Kurt Cobain You and me were not the same Nine-eleven the game on different planes [Verse 4: Ambiguous] My girl got curves like she from Brazil Scoring goals ball handles for-real Been out the game but I still got it Ask your girl you know she thot it Four years deep and this dick still going I don't rap but this shit is flowing Futbol mate in the Hampstead Heath Talking British there's a gap in my teeth The fleet is here about to lay down knowledge Mans actin like they from Greendale College Ha gay! Y'all ain't ready for Chang If God is real I'm the Big Bang [Verse 5: Juke] At the crib with a bad bitch Her nails in my back like a bad itch Finished up and called the Uber Rap games nightmare, call me Kruger Murdered the game while y'all asleep Can't afford these shots cause my bars ain't cheap Fire on the track, chef curry on the court Your dick game Cavs, so you're coming up short Y'all lame ass dudes can't touch The Fleet Can't write no rhymes to our fucking beat My groupie lines, like immigration Thot you'd keep up, that's imagination 12 BARZ x4