Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Triple Threat, artist - Terror Squad. Album song Terror Squad, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 09.09.1999
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Rhino Atlantic
Song language: English
Triple Threat |
What, fuck ya want from me, |
See I love my thugs but Im a terrorist nigga and imma terrorize ya ass |
Till gone for miles pana |
What, bitch ass nigga! |
(verse 1 armageddon) |
I jeopardize this rap shit and blast ya ass to prove a point |
I got thug nigguz who dont even rap callin to do joints |
Frontin off the strength and you the weak link in the click |
Its obvious you pussy I could see the pink in the clit |
I seen the chip and the clip of my daily desert eagle |
Fourty four metal with heatll |
Open ya belly like its legal |
Push you back a few feet send you sailin like a seagull |
When we clash in the street |
Why was you bailin if you evil (you aint evil) |
Talkin bout somebody tryin to playa hate you |
Actually I like you but fuck wit my squad the german a.k.ll hit you |
Ever seen what them things could do could- |
Down to ya tims, Im like the limit on ya life |
The demon on ya light |
That figure in the dark that takes ya heart in the mid of night |
This aint a joke cause aint nuttin comical how my laser scope |
Aim at ya dome could erase the features off ya facial bones |
Im like a triple threat |
Double dare you to try to rip my neck |
The way my click spit techs will leave you wet from dick to neck |
I know you aint forget the way these squad niggaz rep |
Comin at me from the sideline like you intend to step (x2) |
(verse 2 big pun) |
Fuck the battlin its world war four I mean the red form |
No need to crowd the name is aroused up in the dead zone |
New world order I only flow wit the real horror |
Chrome c4 to ya door and pearl harbor |
We can bring it back |
Gats on the holsters of mini macs |
Gats on the holsters strapped to the shoulders of maniacs |
Where we at the projects |
Why dont you get the closet |
Aaaahhhhhh! |
shit killa clacks |
Couldve brought back ya prostate |
Buyacka got bullets big enough to move ya car |
Land cruisers 18 wheelers we do it tied |
Just let it happen I prefer violence instead of rappin |
Fuckin wit this latin assassin better get ya head examined |
My shit be slammin like onyx and wrestle mania |
You really want it you philly blounted in pennsylvania |
Im aimin the mac right at ya hat better watch ya back black |
I aint sayin you wack but yous a copy cat |
(verse 3 cuban link**) |
Yo now who the fuck wanna battle this |
You garbage pail rappers would get ya cabbage split |
Got a habit of brandin ammitur nigguz like cattle hips |
So watch ya lips |
Cause what you fuckin is hazardous |
Shut up and catch a clip I roll wit more dogz than st. |
lazorous |
What happened is ya raps aint accurate you claim you packin it But when the action hits you rather switch into a faggot bitch |
Im hardcore its not my fault ya softer than cardboard |
Ya started to battle so imma turn into the God four |
Switch to southpaw like de la hoya golden boy |
I put it on you polaroid finish left you as red as sonya |
I been a soulja all my life fought for stripes all most saw the light |
Talk to christ he told me that my songs so nice |
And for the right price I might just body you |
Chop ya ass into particles and read about you in newspaper articles |
Im sick and tired talkin shit got beef wit me then so be it |
Ill rush you like the soviet union and leave you soakin wet |