Death Threat (feat. Kool G. Rap)

歌詞

(feat. Brand New Heavies) Some think that I'm a flake, but I'm no fake nigga cause I Drink a bitch, make him a witch and burn his ass at the stake With the .44 mag it's so simple Put it to his temple, fuck it, I give a nigga permanent dimples Easing up on the fast slow, but I let your ass know The block's too hot like Tabasco Brand New Heavies on the tracks, G Rap on the wax Cold bumping, got motherfuckers doing jumping jacks You motherfuckers lost it I bake your ass like a cake and all y'all flakes get frosted Cause when G Rap is on the mix Niggas start shitting bricks and turning into chick with small dicks So a bitch, lyrics with a live band (Yo this shit is funky) Yo fuck funky, the shit hit the fan Shame if you're stepping to my set You niggas get wet, nah fuck it, it's just a motherfucking death threat Yeah, I got you bitches on lockdown, you niggas get knocked down You're running cause I'm gunning your block down, punk So save the bitch riff cause my four-fifth lifts I'm tossing stiff off of fucking cliffs Get close, I got you on scope, you walking on thin rope So I'm a shoot 'em up like dope Cause to make my notes I'm a cut throats Bodies are thrown off boats and do a dead man's float Straight down a river Huh, with a bullet inside his motherfucking liver Another hooker got thrown out Stepped right into the crossfire and got her brains blown out So you niggas better buck Cause when my coat's full of buckshots, I don't give a fuck You think you're down with the murder guys Bullshit, say hello to that dirt you're gonna fertilize You wonder why the area's stark Homicides just fell ten bones since our car drove When they opened the other trunks that were closed Full of five unidentified John Does All found dead on arrival Cause I pulled up slowly and made 'em holy like Bibles They find a letter and cassette Red and said it's just a motherfucking death threat Send the bodies to the morgue for a freezing I got the motherfucking finger on the trigger cause it's nigga season A punk tried to drop me I left the body sloppy so they can't perform an autopsy Dig a hole for the bitch And put all his pieces and bits inside a ditch Yo, you don't think you're going under I got a bullet with your name, your address, and your phone number So if you want to play games I'm blowing you the fuck out the frame You tried to front and got murdered last night So now you float to the motherfucking light So I'm a step to your grave and make a toast And start shooting at your motherfucking ghost So may the Lord be with ya Cause I ain't no saint and I don't paint pretty pictures It ain't nothing but bloodshed Stains of brains on the rug and less blood in your head You want to make me upset? Huh, then I'm a promise you a motherfucking death threa