[Dom Pachino]
Just tell me who's better than, this military lyrical veteran
It's guaranteed that this year, n***a, we gon' get it in
From here to El Paso, I be swinging my laso
I rise and gon' keep it a hundred, don't give me no ha**le
Quit being an a**hole, I'm so tired and fake
I play the role like Mel Carter, n***a, give me a break
I'm hot, like a b**h in spring break
I'm hot, like the young new n***a Drake, but on an underground for goodness sake
I'm a lot more dirty, baby, let's take a mud bath
I'm fly like when the skuds blast, don't give me no riff raff
Please take a seat, and gather around
And come listen to the Terrorist sound
This is Napalm music, know how we get down
On the day to day, you b**hes wanna play today?
I'm a fresh thing, like a Gatorade, please take a sip
And tell me how you like the taste of this Terrorist sh**?
[Chorus: Just Da Barber]
Don't don't dare try to f** with this music
That rude sh**, that make you pop off quick
n***as I went to school with be packing a tool wit
Jump in a cool whip, just to blast off quick
Taking nothing less, then a hundred percent
I'm taking nothing less, than a hundred percent, n***a
[Dom Pachino]
You know the kid's back to raise my value like valuum
I had an epiphany, in the sauna with my pad and my towel
Let's raise caine, sh** on the game, I move a vowel
I shoot my raps like an arrow, off the bow with pharaoh
Yo, where you been, P, last spotted in a black beemer
Interior, send 'em and sprinkle the team with farina
Women say I clean the relics, just with Noxyema
She cracked a smile on the face, once she seen my ice gleam up
Let's get your mind off my peanuts
I got a pre-nub, accounts come tight
co*k harder than a tree stump, and that's all you get aight?
I got a stick-up mentality
If you caught me in '96, I got a stick-up man salary
Dom pop a n***a from the gun bust academy
A graduate with plans to live lavishly
Terrorist bring the pain, I raise 'caine on you savages
[Chorus]
[Dom Pachino]
Raise 'caine like a coke price, my lyrics like
Crack dope ice, emphidemes, extra C's, special K, crystal meth
If you listen to them loud, you might end up deaf
I dice you up like a chef
We decide to stay hard, since there's no more left
It's like there's only club music
What happened to that true New York thug music, that started this sh**
It's like it's gone and the next, leave retardly sick
But we the last of a dying breed, when the game's in a dyer need
My real soldiers please vow for me
As we start this campaign, and bring back the origin
From where this hip hop came, n***a