Mathematics - Wannabeez lyrics

[Intro: P.R. Terrorist] Shake 'em down, Mathematics Terrorist, yeah [Chorus x2: P.R. Terrorist] All you players, k**ers, dogs, wannabee thugs In your body comin' soon is a wannabee slug In this rap sh** is real so I gotta really be bug To show y'all fake motherf**ers love [P.R. Terrorist] You happy just to breathe oxygen Ox and men, ox is friend And the rest of them n***as that's in the pen I'm standin' in What's a thug? f**in' thug, y'all n***as ain't really bug When this sh** hit the fan, y'all hope'll be thug Out in the desert, rap wizard, stylistic Check the statistics on my LP's You see me on the streets, mark of the beast .44 slugs rip through your fleece, they hold grease Next tape, trapped on the Shao', there's no escape No bridge, no boat, just a place for your throat Surrounded by water, transmit the blood of manslaughter This gold-diggin' b**h on my dick, I can't abort her Plus it's cheaper, and the skins is deeper on her daughter Splashin' 'em both, got it taped on camcorder What it like, I be eatin' too much beats and rice Rollin' dice, never thinkin' twice, sh** is trife Terrorizin', never surprisin' the mic device {*gunshots*} Maricon! [Chorus x3] [P.R Terrorist] Real n***as give it up, fake n***as they get it tooken I'm on a long trip on my way to Central Bookin' 2 Heaterz that was found in my Jeep, Eastside of Crooklyn When I hit the house, everybody's lookin' At the Latino, who that? Dom PaChino k**army rap style that's so raunchy Test me, remember that Allah done blessed me Even the Jakes tried f**in' me up when they arrest me Can't take my mind from me although you got my 9's from me And know my seed that be growin' in my wiz tummy O.T., makin' CREAM, dress bummy Feds like n***as who floss and flash money But I'm low-key, bless you with a flow that's holy Ain't dependin' on a record label to blow me It's on me, Terra Iz Him: The LP G.O.D., try seein', the light be set free [Chorus x4] [Outro: P.R. Terrorist] Wannabee, word k**arm' You ain't thugs Maricons.. {*screaming*} Come on.. {*gunshots*} You wanna f** with me!?! Huh? {*screaming and gunshots continue*} I'll k** all you motherf**ers! That's all you got? Come on! I'm Dom PaChino! [Movie sample] Come on! Let's go! I'll f**in' blow your head off! Come on! Let's go! See this? You boys are dead And not just dead Bring your boy Dallas, he f**in' dead too Gold-diggers, you tipped it I ain't f**in' do this! f**in' friends! We f**in' grew up together! You mothaf**a! You want a war with me? You want a f**in' war with me?!?!