lirik lagu dom pachino - wannabeez
[intro: p.r. terrorist]
shake ’em down, mathematics
terrorist, yeah
[chorus x2: p.r. terrorist]
all you players, k!llers, dogs, wannabee thugs
in your body comin’ soon is a wannabee slug
in this rap sh-t is real so i gotta really be bug
to show y’all fake motherf-ckers love
[verse 1: p.r terrorist]
you happy just to breathe oxygen, ox and men, ox is friend
and the rest of them n-ggas that’s in the pen i’m standin’ in
what’s a thug? f-ckin’ thug, y’all n-ggas ain’t really bug
when this sh-t hit the fan, y’all hope’ll be thug
out in the desert, rap wizard, stylistic
check the statistics on my lps
you see me on the streets, mark of the beast
.44 slugs rip through your fleece, they hold piece
next tape, trapped on the shao’, there’s no escape
no bridge, no boat, just a place for your throat
surrounded by water, transmit the blood of manslaughter
this gold-diggin’ b-tch on my d-ck, i can’t abort her
plus it’s cheaper and the skins is deeper on her daughter
splashin’ ’em both, got it taped on camcorder
what it like, i be eatin’ too much beats and rice
rollin’ dice, never thinkin’ twice, sh-t is trife
terrorizin’, never surprisin’ the mic device (maricon!)
[chorus x3: p.r. terrorist]
all you players, k!llers, dogs, wannabee thugs
in your body comin’ soon is a wannabee slug
in this rap sh-t is real so i gotta really be bug
to show y’all fake motherf-ckers love
[verse 2: p.r terrorist]
real n-ggas give it up, fake n-ggas they get it tooken
i’m on a long trip on my way to central bookin’
2 heaterz that was found in my jeep, eastside of crooklyn
when i hit the house, everybody’s lookin’
at the latino, who that? dom pachino
k!llarmy rap style that’s so raunchy
test me, remember that allah done blessed me
even the jakes tried f-ckin’ me up when they arrest me
can’t take my mind from me although you got my 9’s from me
and know my seed that be growin’ in my wiz tummy
o.t., makin’ cream, dress bummy
feds like n-ggas who floss and flash money
but i’m low-key, bless you with a flow that’s holy
ain’t dependin’ on a record label to blow me
it’s on me, tera iz him: the lp
g.o.d., try seein’, the light be set free
[chorus x4: p.r. terrorist]
all you players, k!llers, dogs, wannabee thugs
in your body comin’ soon is a wannabee slug
in this rap sh-t is real so i gotta really be bug
to show y’all fake motherf-ckers love
[outro: p.r. terrorist]
wannabee, word
k!llarm’
you ain’t thugs
maricons.. {-screaming-}
come on.. {-gunshots-}
you wanna f-ck with me!?!
huh? {-screaming and gunshots continue-}
i’ll k!ll all you motherf-ckers!
that’s all you got?
come on!
i’m dom pachino!
[movie sample]
come on! let’s go!
i’ll f-ckin’ blow your head off!
come on! let’s go!
see this? you boys are dead
and not just dead
bring your boy dallas, he f-ckin’ dead too
gold-diggers, you tipped it
i ain’t f-ckin’ do this!
f-ckin’ friends!
we f-ckin’ grew up together!
you mothaf-cka!
you want a war with me?
you want a f-ckin’ war with me?!?!
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