Yeah, terrorists,
y 'all niggas ready?
I'm about to run all this shit
Pat my self on the back, I deserve it
I know for certain,
behind curtains lie serpents
Don't wanna see my pockets hurtin'
And my career not workin' is why
my joints be feedin' the bus
They love to see my
Spanish ass in cuffs
But it won't happen,
I'm tryna own
Manhattan, son
Yo, they call it
Latin paradise, the latest fashion is ice
Bitches never think twice,
they hop in my ride and slide
Only the strong will survive,
I'm losing my mind
Head gripping the nine,
another hand in the wheel
Making music that the people could feel
That's what's up,
taking them home like the
Stanley
Cup
22's on the truck,
niggas got stuck when I was down on my luck
Now I'm up and coming,
penthouse like the drummings
Having run -ins with the
Lord and like my day is coming
But it's really not,
terrorists is really hot
Terrorists is really hot when
I'm blowing the spot
Yo, yeah, uh -huh, uh, uh
Same as him, check it out, bitch
Ayo, we creepin' with thugs,
holdin' snubs up in clubs
Put your mouth on the barrel,
make your face eat slugs
Flowin' with a genie,
givin' me head on a magic rug
Lifestyle is bug, put you in a beer hug
Slayin' meteorologists,
can't follow this path
Rap hol low tips,
you wits wanna swallow my kids?
Street metaphors for outlaws,
doin' they bid
Holdin' the heat on the runway, screamin'
F those pigs
That's po lice with
the mark of the beast
Leave you deceased, I had to flee
Rap was complete, sleep with the heat
When I was 17,
Mike
Prince started wildin'
Doin' stickers from
Ohio to
Gatton,
Alley
Now I'm feelin' on the rock, it's
Lord, keep the heat cock
Oh shit, the guard got knocked
For bail money, shoot up spots
Mad man, laser guns
The
TV ain't
Robocop's
Street off the motherfuckin' block
Word up, fuck up, yeah, uh -huh
Word up, fuckers
Them niggas better throw y 'all guns
up to this shit right here, man
Throw them shits up, up,
up, yeah, yeah
It's called a ceremony.
Terrorist in 9th
Prince, bitch.
'all niggas know what time it is.
Killer
Army's the best, nigga.
All y 'all niggas that been frontin',
y niggas better hang that shit up.
Y 'all niggas can't fuck with us.
Y know who the fuck
I'm talkin' to.
We ain't got no love for
Killer
Army.
We ain't got no motherfuckin' love for you,
nigga.
And y 'all know we don't play on the streets,
nigga.
It ain't no fuckin' game.
We come see y niggas if you talk shit
Word up, come to a hood near you nigga
We be right there bitch
Word up, and all y 'all bitches man
I just one head man, strictly head
Straight head bitch, head in the wind
Head in the moon, head in the moon
Like my nigga big bitch
That day we came to fuck y 'all,
bitch niggas know my status
If y fuck around with us,
y 'all gon' feel the fuckin' flames now
Y 'all can't fuck with the killer on me clique,
we too thick
Y 'all niggas fucked up now cause
we gonna f*** ass up
Yeah, you know what I'm sayin'?
Word out,
Killer
Arm, 2002 and three, four and five,
gettin' no
All that shit, bitch, nigga,
terrorists in 9th
Prince, the motherfuckin' ceremony,
nigga,
Killer
Army style
Peace to my nigga
Seven
Wounds for producing this
ill -ass track,
Baltimore, where y 'all at?
Word out
Yeah, uh -huh, bitch, check it out
Fuck y 'all niggas
Fucking