Lyrics Stormin tha Gatez - Terror Reid, Getter

Stormin tha Gatez

Fuck you then, bitch!
Yo, hey yo
It be the animalistic, sadistic, cryptic mystic with the mega ballistics
Check the statistics
I’m stealing your sister’s digits
Rippin' timid midgets tippin infinite whippets
Sitting back, developing cataracts fast, from all these trash Millennial wack
rap acts
Oh, you call yourself a gangbangin' thug
Counting stacks and making racks off your trash raps, bitch relax
We all know
You’re still at the home with both your folks
You never been poked, you never fucked those hoes
You never even held a gun before
Silly bitches pretending they whippin' shit in the kitchen, well listen
Go and find your daddy’s shiny gun rack
Grab the biggest gat and make it fast before he comes back
Good, now find out where he keeps the bullets at
You’ll only need one so don’t grab the whole fucking pack
Welcome back to the real deal, it’s a whole meal
I’m the illest motherfucker who won’t hesitate to break the seal
Stormin' the gates
It’s back to the basics
I’ll let you taste it
Then peel your face, just face it
Cus' I’m the quickest shit since the invention of the wheel
I never fuck with bitches who ain’t wearing high heels
So kick back and witness the sickness that is this
It’s Terror Reid up in this
I’m writing a prescription
Find a comfy place, where you can sit down, now
Load a clip and put it in your mouth and bite down
But before you go splat, think back to another time
Where motherfuckers actually rhymed and crossed the line
Man, I’m sick of this shit
Can’t understand you when you spit
But when I can it’s the same motherfucking subject, pussy
Lean, backwoods, gold chains, and xanax
Nobody gives a fuck how much you spending on your Amex
Well fuck that shit, bitch I’m snorting motherfucking anthrax
Chop it up with an axe
Kick back, relax
I’ll beat myself with a bat
Cus' I’m a maniac, in fact
I’ll ask your fucking bitch to spit if I want a comeback
Matter of fact, that’s only half my ill intentions
I’ll teleport to the morgue and have a dead corpse convention
And after all that
Shit, I’ll hang up my hat, and say
Hey Satan, if you can hear me dawg, please call me back
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