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lirik lagu this song is terrorism – christ dillinger, dj smokey & rxknephew

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[intro: rxknephew]
evil poison
dj smokey presents: certified terror music
this album is terrorism (allahu akbar)
(what’s good geeohhs?)
yeah (i hope my opps get aids)
yeah (evil poison)

[verse 1: rxknephew]
you want that sh*t done right? then do it yourself
i’m the only boss, n*gga, paid it myself
off in them trenches, n*gga, slavin’ myself
$300,000, n*gga, made it myself (too many hunnids)
birthday on the first, they’re like, “neph, why you ain’t hype about it?”
i paid three*hundred bills, sh*t, what i like about that?
“what you want for your birthday?” i want a new thirty
“what you want for your birthday?” b*tch, who gon’ do it for me?
“what you want for your birthday?” b*tch, can’t afford it
“what you want for your birthday?” sh*t, a new foreign
i’m goin’ through some sh*t, who the f*ck gon’ relate? (for real)
just ’cause i got money, a b*tch gon’ stay (certified terror music)
gucci frames on my face, i don’t wanna see sh*t
cut ’em off, they’re like, “d*mn, neph can’t keep sh*t”
a couple thousand for this sh*t, this ain’t no cheap fit
you did what? and seen what? we don’t believe that sh*t
talkin’ bout love, they don’t even love they self
i love my glock 40, gucci frames and b.b. belt (opp genocide)
[verse 2: rx papi]
chain cost a lot
you ain’t got sh*t to say to me, my n*gga, explain it to the glock
walk in the spot like mad max, throw bombs over baghdad
if i don’t know you’re back back, then get your p*ssy ass whacked
he a below*the*waist shooter, you always aimin’ for the legs
i’m like shaq, when i’m in the paint, i’m tryna bang on a n*gga head
bet i get the rebound; opps wanna see me down
i got light heron, and i got that bobby brown
he was up, they shot him down
[?] on me, ridin’ ’round
good on my side of town
he moved ot, he hidin’ out
sh*t feel different with a gun in your face
oh, now you don’t got nothin’ to say
real mobster, don’t look at my face
when i walk in, look the other way
this pill changed my mood quick
y’all shoot the sh*t, we shoot sh*t
i got lawyer and bail money
the opps wishin’ jail on me
plug your nose, it smell funny
put your f*ckin’ mask on
i been in this trap for nine hours, gettin’ bags gone
i’ll put a slab on; get his lil’ ass gone
shoot a lot, but you always missin’, you got bad form (based negative squad)
[verse 3: christ dillinger]
n*ggas ain’t gon’ never walk again if they think ’bout runnin’ in
when i was fourteen, i fronted unc once and never saw that n*gga again
i pop pills and drink out the bottle
my b*tch bad as f*ck, look like a model
vic dope, it make ’em wobble
this weed just came out, it’s not gelato
if you ain’t got no money, my b*tch will not f*ck
moncler on me, official as f*ck
you can scan the moncler tag on my outfit, it go right to the website
ain’t no way my mans gettin’ left behind, ’cause i’ma make sure i get him right
one time i fronted a n*gga a dime until he paid me, i couldn’t sleep at night
when i got my first pound, i broke it down
broke a whole pound down to nicks and dimes
squeeze out all the profit, i need every penny
back to school shopping was jcpenney’s
i can still get fly in a [?]
we got xanax pills, molly and x
we got that dog, got dmx
beat a n*gga ass on stage like x

[outro]
poison incorporated (what’s good geeohhs?)
we make the best poison
terrorists win

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