Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Trife-A-Saurus Rex, artist - DSP. Date of issue: 15.09.2002
Song language: English
Trife-A-Saurus Rex |
| You can’t handle the heavyweight, I’ll blow your spine |
| Like imaginin' a hoe, I could blow your mind |
| You cats at shows don’t even know your rhymes |
| You better start payin' your hype man for overtime |
| Every other line seems to be a quote from mine |
| Like if I was Biggie Smalls and you cats were Shine |
| I’ll smack you blind, suplex and crack your spine |
| Snatch your shine like acts of crime, then slap your dime |
| For trynna stand in front of a punk-ass man |
| Throwin' upper hands like my fists won’t land |
| I’m the diabolical deadliest biological war |
| The highly volatile raw, fry your molecules more |
| Than an atomical bomb, the comical dawn |
| With your aunt and ya mom on both arms at ya prom |
| Gotcha little sister in her bedroom strippin' her thong |
| Talkin' to me on the NET at Apathy.com |
| You know it’s pimped out, why would you ever want to step |
| Or flex, flex, flex with the Trife-A-Saurus Rex |
| You know it’s pimped out, why would you ever want to step |
| Or flex, flex, flex with the Trife-A-Saurus Rex |
| You know it’s pimped out, why would you ever want to step |
| Or flex, flex, flex with the Trife-A-Saurus Rex |
| You know it’s pimped out, why would you ever want to step |
| Or flex, flex, flex with the Trife-A-Saurus Rex |
| My heart pulsates beats and bumps bass 'til my pulse rate |
| Developin' a skeleton with metal in his skull plate |
| Headbutt your dome with the impact of lead buck from chrome |
| I’ll earthquake and crush your home… base |
| Toxic waste struck the clones so doctors race |
| To reconstruct the bones and replace |
| (The chromosomes in your face) I’ll steal your soul |
| Throw it through the ozone and let it roam through space |
| (The underground’s been polluted by you little soft suckers) |
| «I really don’t enjoy it when they say motherfucker!» |
| Well motherfucker guess what, I’m mentally wise |
| Whether parentally advised or intellectually high |
| I’m arrogant, talk down to inferior fags |
| My head’s so big I’ll use trash bags for do-rags |
| You trynna run up on Celph with demos and shit (Hahaha!) |
| He’ll sign you… (If you let me fuck your bitch!) |
| You know it’s pimped out, why would you ever want to step |
| Or flex, flex, flex with the Trife-A-Saurus Rex |
| You know it’s pimped out, why would you ever want to step |
| Or flex, flex, flex with the Trife-A-Saurus Rex |
| You know it’s pimped out, why would you ever want to step |
| Or flex, flex, flex with the Trife-A-Saurus Rex |
| You know it’s pimped out, why would you ever want to step |
| Or flex, flex, flex with the Trife-A-Saurus Rex |
| Yo, I want the fame and fortune, treasures and wealth |
| Young girls dream about me to pleasure theirself |
| I went straight to the finals, skip the audition |
| Spit some raw writtens and ripped the competition |
| Stuck chicks on tour, grabbin' their hair |
| I’m havin' affairs with pairs in extravagant lairs |
| Come home to my wife and she’s packin' my wares |
| Swingin' at me with a steak knife, stabbin' the air (Get the fuck out!) |
| (I'm the Trife-A-Saurus Rex!) Baddest cat in the pack |
| Rollin' with Celph (A black gat strapped in the Ac') |
| I make calls to terrify, babies run in the street |
| Cop dough when we do show with Governor Pete |
| Got my brothers in the family and blood’s thicker than water |
| It’s deep, I’m the Godfather to Open Mic’s daughter |
| And all you rappin' bitches who wanna provoke and battle… |
| Step to Trife-A-Saurus or the Eso-pterodactyl! |
| You know it’s pimped out, why would you ever want to step |
| Or flex, flex, flex with the Trife-A-Saurus Rex |
| You know it’s pimped out, why would you ever want to step |
| Or flex, flex, flex with the Trife-A-Saurus Rex |
| You know it’s pimped out, why would you ever want to step |
| Or flex, flex, flex with the Trife-A-Saurus Rex |
| You know it’s pimped out, why would you ever want to step |
| Or flex, flex, flex with the Trife-A-Saurus Rex |