Количество артистов: 43,846 Количество текстов песен: 642,600
Количество артистов: 43,846 Количество текстов песен: 642,600
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Артист: P.R. TerroristНазвание : FearДанные: текст песни / слова песни Жанры : rap hip-hop new york wu-tang staten island rap hip-hop new york wu-tang staten island Видео:
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[Intro: P.R. Terrorist] Come on Henry, roll the fuckin` dice Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, real good Tera Iz Him, yea, what the deal, baby boy Just` How you feel my nigga? Yeah, Killarm`, Killarm` Yeah, bout to get real fuckin` grimey [Chorus: P.R. Terrorist] Niggas run from the fear in they heart The fear of the gun spark, the fear of the dark The fear of the NARC`s, the fear of the parked cars And parked vans in front of they house Scanners hangin` out they back, yo, niggas sellin` crack [P.R. Terrorist] D.J.`s spinnin` wax in the clubs Everybody`s thugs, everybody`s rockin` colors, nobody`s brothers any more Why not? Everybody wanna fall, nobody standin` tall like a brick wall Got my balls sweaty, battery charged up like Ever Ready Forever ready, more cards than Mirror Freddie Before I go, the world, they gon` forget me Left two girls behind, both look like me Promoter throwin` the show, don`t wanna invite me How can a God be righteous, when they say I`m sheisty I tell you why... because it`s me, me, wonderful me Dom P, G.O.D., represent to the T Represent for my niggas on the M.I.C., N.Y.C. [Chorus] [P.R. Terrorist] Catch me in the back, countin` the money stack Where it at, niggas is rollin` dice (4, 5, 6) Think twice when you come around the hood, cuz niggas ain`t no good It`s just an actual fact, sleep wit a fat black mack, and keep my gear intact Cuz the bitches do love me, can`t forget about them Plus can`t forget about the way they made me cum Had two daughters while I was workin` on my son Got questioned by jakes, while I was on the run Made mad cheddar, while I was on the run Bust mad guns, while I was on the run Must say rest in peace, to my nigga Pun, Pun... rest in peace [Chorus 2X] [P.R. Terrorist] Dont` make me, choke you to death, you fake muthafucka Hands out your pocket, don`t make me pull the eye shutter Straight from the gutter, where I was born and raised Nowadays shit be seemin` like we trapped in a cage We got, gates that are twelve feet high, wit curl blades Never had shit, tell you right now, that crime pays Spanish rap cat, wit gats and razor blades Handglide off the building, my wings and my shoulder blades Straight flyin`, stroll through the hood, holdin` an iron No lying, snakes are cunnivin`, niggas is spyin` The Earth`s cryin`, and my thorn bush roses are dyin` Bows are fryin` from hell`s heat, these mean streets got me buggin` What the deal, cousin? [Chorus] [Outro: P.R. Terrorist] This how it is around the way, knawhatimean? Terrorist shit, knowhatimsayin`? Islord, `Bandz, 9th Prince, Beretta 9, ShoGun the Assason 4th Disciple, Dainja Mental, Killa Sin, Wannabeez, yeah | Похожие исполнители:
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