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[Intro: P.R. Terrorist]
Not enough liquor, man Go to the L.Q. or somethin` man This shit is crazy right here, yo The fuck... Terrorist shit, bitch Yo, yo, yo [P.R. Terrorist] Rap`s so vicious, attack tracks like bats on bitches I`m sorry captain, but I be clappin` snitches Bury a bastard in digits, rap for riches Peel a cap back for my life, and my little misses Big bushes from a seldom, seen dreams you choose to follow Either it`s soul or the slugs, and his toast was hollow They part team will follow, surround the enemy And talk about the shit tomorrow, while I`m loadin` my cargo Stamp the barcode, on the CD`s and ship `em out lovely Before the bootleggers try and dub me Came a long way from nothin`, and I still got a long way Who would of thought some day, would of been makin` music Could of been all up in your pockets, rock it to your eye socket Don`t knock it, please tell your man, don`t cock it Chances is slim, nigga take a glance at your kin I`m countin` one -- any more seconds is the end [Chorus: P.R. Terrorist] I fell victim to the game (who to name, who to blame) (8X) When I find out I`m gon` make them feel the pain [P.R. Terrorist] I`m on the block like any man The difference between and you, is I understand You askin` questions, `what`s that shit up in my hand` Answer the questions, I fry that shit up in your pan, bitch-nigga Understand, I`m the P.R.T., Error is this His lyrics are unique and his vocals are crisp Bang that shit in your jeeps, or in a block with the fifth So, front on this, kid, front on this So I can let the shit that`s in my hand, light up my wrist And let the shit that`s in it, like, eat through your chest I`m far from the best, I`m more like the worst, you`ve ever seen Spit green phlem from blunts, same colors my jeans And my boots`ll be brown, geared up with street dial Let the beats pound, cuz beef hound round the block This is hip hop, niggaz fuck around and went pop [Chorus 8X] [Just Da Barber] I`m like the Phantom of the Opera, from the Little Shop of Horrors It be Da Barber, slash rapper, slash reporter I keep the revolver, tucked near the waist, don`t even bother With the all-starter, who get down like Vince Carter Got it soul proper, cut your face like a chopper Be the heart stopper, on the drop-of-the-dime rocker Got it locked for all the Pradas, stash box under the rock Keep a hard glock for hard knocks So when the ball drops, I lick off four shots for four cops Bounce outta state, open up four spots More props to game, blocks to claim Grown my own weed crops, spots the name [P.R. Terrorist] Knowledge to gain, Terrorist and Just re-aim And when find the muthafucka, we gon` make him feel the pain I feel victim to the game (who to name, who to blame
Прямая ссылка на текст песни Victims: http://musworld.ru/music/eng/103/1/14223.html » Dom PaChino (P.R. Terrorist) f Just Da B - Victims » Gomez - Rex Kramer » Gluecifer - Shaking So Bad » George Jones - They`ll Never Take Her Love From Me » Gang Starr - Step In The Arena » Gordon Lightfoot - I`ll Prove My Love » Graham Parker - Soul on Ice » Great White - Alone » Geto Boys - Fuck a War » G.G. Anderson - Vaya Con Dios » garrity - fairy tales | guitar chord и Mp3 » Grace Jones - Don`t Cry Freedom » Grand Funk Railroad - I`m Your Captain » Gilbert O`sullivan - I`ll Believe It When I See It » Gipsy Kings - Quiero Saber » Garrison Starr - I Should Have Known » Gary Numan - Confession » Godflesh - Spite » George Harrison - Its Johnnys Birthday » George Strait - Someone`s Walkin` Around Upstairs » Grand Funk Railroad - She Got To Move Me |
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