Rap-a-Lot Records - Blow Dem Hoes Up lyrics

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Rap-a-Lot Records - Blow Dem Hoes Up lyrics

Artist: The Terrorists Album: Terror Strikes - Always Bizness, Never Personal Song: Blow Dem Hoes Up Blow dem hoes up cause all of these punks Behind my back they call me n***a and on my face they front You see, I know the real deal And that's the main reason why I serial k** Now mothaf**as livin' straight up fake these days And it's gonna take The Terrorists to pave the ways Remember way back? When a long time ago A n***a couldn't even look at a white hoe Now you think you got blackman in check You better give me my respects, redneck That's bullsh** and Dope-E don't like that Egypt made a hype track, now it's time to fight back Get back cause I'm too strong I been waitin' to say this for so long You been holdin' me back and now I'm pissed So I lift my head up and raise my power fist Cause you're prejudiced and I know this is unjustice We need to fix thus next on my hitlist Cause, damn it, I'm tired I blow you hoes up and set this world on fire... Blow these hoes up... Prejudiced ba*tards... Tell'em, Dope... Prejudiced white mothaf**ers upset me I wanted to blow dem hoes up but the Coalition wouldn't let me See, you're obsessed that fact that I'm black And I'm obsessed that fact that I'm black with a bat Swingin' on the head of a honky Callin' me sh**, junk and jigaboo and don't even know me I'm feel to put stop to this All the conversatin' and waitin' is over, punk, throw your fist And face the black nation Demalest the hope of meditation Cause th whole damn committee is white That sh** ain't right and Dope-E don't like it These mothaf**as try to claim authority Provin' on majority, make us to commit larceny On a white sh** talker Includin' your white hoes too cause we're b**h stalkers And The Terrorists' about to murder your a** Real slow over evil sounds Terror strikes the light and the whites might not like Tonight to overcome the daylight... Blow dem hoes up... Prejudiced ba*tards... Tell'em, Dope... Dope-E tellin' you the story of facts Writin' exact to wax, f** you oreo-blacks Cause you're jockin' the other, you don't know your color You need to learn to hang with your sistas and brothas Your momma shoulda told you not to f** with white trash Cause when the sh** hits the fan they won't cut for your a** All they do is turn their noses And that reminds me of Guns'N Roses I heard you used the word 'n***a' in your song When we see your punk group we gonna whip that a** long Face the Holocauster, fool, and my DJ Egypt-E got my back With a gat and he'll spray your whole crew, fightin' back you ain't able You be layin' in dramaroom with attorney and boosty cables They'll try to jumpstart your f**in' heart And time they get it started I'm gonna rip it apart You sissy mothaf**a, see, nobody needs you Step to the terror set and you'll have ceasors Honky, see how I sound, yeah, you hate it Now go with that misteminor sh** before I get aggravated... Blow these hoes up... Prejudiced ba*tards... Tell'em, Dope...