Lyrics JT Machinima – Beggars Can’t Be Choosers
Text:
Hit the ground running, grab a weapon and go
You landed outside the circle? Then get you head in the zone
‘Cause duty’s calling, everybody get on your phone
It’s international battle royale, who wants the throne?
I’ll be the last man standing with the dopest wardrobe
Change it up, if you’re ever sick of rollin’ alone
Join an army of 50, you’ll all be owning the zone
From all over the world, I know we can’t lose
«Nous allons gagner», can’t understand you!
From the shores to the mountains, wait for my moment to kill
Uncontested anywhere I go, I’m king of this hill
You’ll see me raise my flag high for my enemies to witness
Setting up my shield, establishing my defenses
I’m a doctor, got my PhD in ballistics
With my national pride, but this isn’t the Olympics
You gotta grab what you can
You know beggars can’t be choosers
Separate the boys from men
And the winners from the losers
Battle royale!
It’s the dawn of the dead, zombie survival time
You know the guys who run around without vital signs?
Try to bite me and I’ll take your faces straight to my chainsaw
Got a job as a zombie? mate, you’re about to get laid off
When it comes to survinin’, I’ll supply you with the bible
After I drop from the heavens and parachute on arrival
I’m a deadeye, that I’m gonna prove with a rifle
I’ll have my rivals all whining «Hey I could use a revival!»
Brought the keys to the jeep, let’s take a cruise in the ride
This battle is royale, crown me king, now you will abide
The only way I know to play, you gotta rule to survive
This ain’t a rap, in fact it’s more like a guidebook
I’ll add a chapter for every life that I took
A fight to the death is the kind that I look for
Time to make you taste this grenade that I’ve cooked
Grab what you can
You know beggars can’t be choosers
Separate the boys from men
And the winners from the losers
Battle royale!
Gloves off, my fists are vicious
Check out the killfeed, I’m checking off my hit list
With this guitar, I’ll rock zombies ’cause I’m down with the sickness
Airdrop, I got dibs on it, this is like Christmas
We got a bit of distance, wanna get some fitness?
When I hit the circle I will work it like a business
You’re a chicken-chicken, I’m a winna-winna
I’ll pluck your cluckin’ feather, cook you up for dinna-dinna
I got so much look that I gone filled up my pockets
You’re talking to the wrong guy if you think I’m gonna drop it
The circle’s shrinkin’ but if I leave my corner, I might get shot
It does not help I’m caught in the middle of a bombardment
I had 99 problems, now they’re all gone, see?
Subtract that from a hundred, gee, that leaves one — me
It’s been a fortnight since I had some rounds
Of battle royale that felt like real battlegrounds
Grab what you can
You know beggars can’t be choosers
Separate the boys from men
And the winners from the losers
Battle royale!
