Just Da Barber - Victims lyrics

[Intro: P.R. Terrorist] Not enough liquor, man Go to the L.Q. or somethin' man This sh** is crazy right here, yo The f**... Terrorist sh**, b**h Yo, yo, yo [P.R. Terrorist] Rap's so vicious, attack tracks like bats on b**hes I'm sorry captain, but I be clappin' snitches Bury a ba*tard in digits, rap for riches Peel a cap back for my life, and my little misses Big bushes from a seldom, seen dreams you choose to follow Either it's soul or the slugs, and his toast was hollow They part team will follow, surround the enemy And talk about the sh** tomorrow, while I'm loadin' my cargo Stamp the barcode, on the CD's and ship 'em out lovely Before the bootleggers try and dub me Came a long way from nothin', and I still got a long way Who would of thought some day, would of been makin' music Could of been all up in your pockets, rock it to your eye socket Don't knock it, please tell your man, don't co*k it Chances is slim, n***a take a glance at your kin I'm countin' one -- any more seconds is the end [Chorus: P.R. Terrorist] I fell victim to the game (who to name, who to blame) (8X) When I find out I'm gon' make them feel the pain [P.R. Terrorist] I'm on the block like any man The difference between and you, is I understand You askin' questions, 'what's that sh** up in my hand' Answer the questions, I fry that sh** up in your pan, b**h-n***a Understand, I'm the P.R.T., Error is this His lyrics are unique and his vocals are crisp Bang that sh** in your jeeps, or in a block with the fifth So, front on this, kid, front on this So I can let the sh** that's in my hand, light up my wrist And let the sh** that's in it, like, eat through your chest I'm far from the best, I'm more like the worst, you've ever seen Spit green phlem from blunts, same colors my jeans And my boots'll be brown, geared up with street dial Let the beats pound, cuz beef hound round the block This is hip hop, n***as f** around and went pop [Chorus 8X] [Just Da Barber] I'm like the Phantom of the Opera, from the Little Shop of Horrors It be Da Barber, slash rapper, slash reporter I keep the revolver, tucked near the waist, don't even bother With the all-starter, who get down like Vince Carter Got it soul proper, cut your face like a chopper Be the heart stopper, on the drop-of-the-dime rocker Got it locked for all the Pradas, stash box under the rock Keep a hard Glock for hard knocks So when the ball drops, I lick off four shots for four cops Bounce outta state, open up four spots More props to game, blocks to claim Grown my own weed crops, spots the name [P.R. Terrorist] Knowledge to gain, Terrorist and Just re-aim And when find the muthaf**a, we gon' make him feel the pain I feel victim to the game (who to name, who to blame