Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Death Threat (feat Kool G. Rap), artist - The Brand New Heavies.
Date of issue: 31.12.1991
Song language: English
Death Threat (feat Kool G. Rap) |
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 threat |