Run For Shelter II (Striking Stars)

from by Madd Cold



Another sequel to an "Enemy Of The Entity" gem. This time, it's the Yemeni Resistance and its gorgeous, homemade Striking Star missiles making the invading Saudi trash run for their lives.


Run For Shelter II (Striking Stars)

___—Madd Cold—___

Looks like Operation Scorched Earth ain’t teach you a damn
thing/Same evilness even though you got a brand new treasonous
sham king/We kicked your tail then and we are kicking your tail
now/We’re giants and you’re midgets, ridiculous frail clowns/We got Kornets, Katyushas and SCUDs and Grads/Plus our Zelzals and Striking Stars, firing away to put all you thugs in bags/We eat Khaleeji soldiers for breakfast, whether they’re stepping in American Abrams tanks or French LeClercs/Loaded Luxes of Yemen so devils gon’ get this work/In the trenches, we bring extensive hurt/Lit-up skies when you witness bright booms/That’s us, downing more Yank F-16s and British Typhoons/Nextgen Mouqawamah, you need to get it right/Thought that you were Superman but we are kryptonite/

Run Saudi devils, run right underground
Run Saudi cowards, run for cover now
Missiles, from the mighty Houthis are coming down
Striking Stars fired, run when the thunder pounds
Run For Shelter Saudi scum, run now
Ansarullah, promised flames would come down
You might get far
But when we shoot the Striking Stars
Heat-seeking tech will (show me where you are)

Feeling like Imam Ali (A.S.) when he hit Khaybar, our advancement is phenomenal/We fight like we could go 100 rounds, you fight like you are cramped in your abdominal/Every ambush has you damn mooks frantic and illogical/But we’re beyond just taking over bases and retaking our lands/We ain’t the ones to play with vultures, we’re an ancient omen that is breaking your plans/Feeling like Qassam in Shuja3iyah, Hizbullah in Wadi al-Hujeir, this is reminiscent of firefights with Yahoud/The Holy Prophet Muhammad (S.A.W.W.) said conflagrations would rise from Yemen and deliver dyer strikes on your brood/Like the Toshka annihilation of 300 invading rats/Call us bird hunters the way we leave your drones and copters blazed in scrap/We promised we would pay you back/for the Sanban wedding massacre and all your other heinous acts/


No amount of Western support can change the fact you are spineless, impaired squids/ Sitting in the corner biting your nails as our rockets rain down like it was hail, and obliterate your supply lines and your Zionist Air Bridge/We brought the heat to your sleekest base in Khamis Mushayt and all your petrodollar monies and wellwishers/Ain’t plug our assault, we killed a few dozen of yours and sent 20 of your Israeli buddies to hell with ya/We’ll be remembered for making invaders spill and leak stunning and timeless/Jizan to Najran to Ma3rib, we got you fools fleeing like wildebeest running from lions/To the tyrant of Jordan, we take pride in aborting your Zionist forces only thing that you’re really “king” of is Playstation/You ain’t hear we slay Masons? And fill up body bags high with the paid laymen of the Great Satan?/Then Wadi 3araba surrenderist, here’s to you screaming as your rotten flesh pops/And for our Sahrawi brothers in the Sahara, to the negative end of the Akhira, go the coward troops of the Moroccan despot/We are like the Revolutionary Guard locked with Spetsnaz/Badass, and these Senegalese and Sudanese mercenaries are getting more than a tad smashed/Missiles got ‘em making a mad dash, madd fast, all they see’s a red streak just like the Flash passed/Feel the swelter, Run For Shelter, had to pelt ya, melt ya, helter skelter, you’re bubbling like Wahhabi seltzer, only pure soldiers can win/And we’re the proof, it’s the 2006 Divine Victory, all over again/


Our missiles turned your warships to fish food
Our rockets turned your warships to fish food
Our men have turned your warships to fish food
It’s true, this is the price you pay when you intrude
Bottom of the ocean is where you sink to
This invasion’s clearly something you ain’t think through
Houthis, we love making a false “king” lose

All lyrics are the copyrighted intellectual property of Jonathan Azaziah a.k.a. Madd Cold.


from Felicity Of The Oppressed, released March 25, 2016
produced by 8 Bars



all rights reserved


Madd Cold Chicago, Illinois

The son of an Iraqi father whose family descended from the holy, resistant city of Kufa and a Moroccan-Russian mother, Madd Cold is an MC, poet and writer from Brooklyn, New York currently residing in Montreal. His articles, poems and music predominantly deal with World Zionism, as well as geopolitics and decolonization in general. The label is Mouqawamah Music and the motto is "DTI". ... more

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