Wannabeez

Lyrics

[Intro] Shake 'em down, Mathematics Terrorist, yeah [Chorus] All you players, killers, dogs, wannabee thugs In your body comin' soon is a wannabee slug In this rap, shit is real, so I gotta really be bug To show y'all fake motherfuckers love All you players, killers, dogs, wannabee thugs In your body comin' soon is a wannabee slug In this rap, shit is real, so I gotta really be bug To show y'all fake motherfuckers love [Verse 1] You happy just to breathe oxygen, ox and men, ox is friend And the rest of them niggas that's in the pen I'm standin' in What's a thug? Fuckin' thug, y'all niggas ain't really bug When this shit 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 blade for your throat Surrounded by water, transmit the blood of manslaughter This gold-diggin' bitch on my dick, I can't afford 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 beans and rice Rollin' dice, never thinkin' twice, shit is trife Terrorizin', never surprisin' the mic device (Maricon!) [Chorus] Yo, all you players, killers, dogs, wannabee thugs In your body comin' soon is a wannabee slug In this rap, shit is real, so I gotta really be bug To show y'all fake motherfuckers love All you players, killers, dogs, wannabee thugs In your body comin' soon is a wannabee slug In this rap, shit is real, so I gotta really be bug To show y'all fake motherfuckers love All you players, killers, dogs, wannabee thugs In your body comin' soon is a wannabee slug In this rap, shit is real, so I gotta really be bug To show y'all fake motherfuckers love [Verse 2] Real niggas give it up, fake niggas they get it tooken I'm on a long trip on my way to Central Bookin' Two heaters that was found in my Jeep, eastside of Crooklyn When I hit the house, everybody's lookin' At the Latino, who that? Dom Pachino Killarmy rap style that's so raunchy Test me, remember that Allah done blessed me Even the Jakes tried fuckin' me up when they arrest me Can't take my mind from me although you got my nines from me And know my seed that be growin' in my wiz tummy O.T., makin' cream, dress bummy Feds like niggas 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] All you players, killers, dogs, wannabee thugs In your body comin' soon is a wannabee slug In this rap, shit is real, so I gotta really be bug To show y'all fake motherfuckers love All you players, killers, dogs, wannabee thugs In your body comin' soon is a wannabee slug In this rap shit is real so I gotta really be bug To show y'all fake motherfuckers love All you players, killers, dogs, wannabee thugs In your body comin' soon is a wannabee slug In this rap shit is real so I gotta really be bug To show y'all fake motherfuckers love All you players, killers, dogs, wannabee thugs In your body comin' soon is a wannabee slug In this rap shit is real so I gotta really be bug To show y'all fake motherfuckers love [Outro] Wannabee, word Killarm' You ain't thugs Maricons.. {*screaming*} Come on.. {*gunshots*} You wanna fuck with me!?! Huh? {*screaming and gunshots continue*} I'll kill all you motherfuckers! That's all you got? Come on! I'm Dom PaChino! [Movie sample] Come on! Let's go! I'll fuckin' blow your head off! Come on! Let's go! See this? You boys are dead And not just dead Bring your boy Dallas, he fuckin' dead too Gold-diggers, you tipped it I ain't fuckin' do this! Fuckin' friends! We fuckin' grew up together! You mothafucka! You want a war with me? You want a fuckin' war with me?!?!