Testo Terror - Masta Ace Incorporated
Testo della canzone Terror (Masta Ace Incorporated), tratta dall'album Sittin' On Chrome
Hit me over the head, nigga
Yeah, you're goddamn right
We got the shit to make ya dome split
You fuck around over here?
You gonna feel the terror
(Terror, terror)
(Terror)
(Terror, terror)
(Terror)
What's your name, kid?
Well, let's just say it's the A to the S-E don't try to test me
And I just be Brownsville to the bone like that
Stone avenue, where ya at?
Who you run with?
Well, the INC, I got Lord to the D
I got Paula to the P, plus me
Hey Leschea, keep the Tanqueray
And pour me a glass of that monkey made of brass, fast
That's how it is and how it goes
I don't need silk clothes to pull all o' the holes in ya head, bum the gunshots and the raps
I bust mad caps when the wack take naps, perhaps
I need to wake 'em up, then I take 'em up
Then I shake 'em up, hey, then I break 'em up
Like glass, I'm up in that ass like Charmin, harmin'
Emcees that feel like swarmin'
Like flees, but I got these
Pesticide rhymes, you best to try crimes
'Cause if you try to fuck with this
Then you just made a error
And you gonna feel the terror
(Terror, terror)
(Terror)
(Terror, terror)
(Terror)
Comin' through in the black cherry automobile, that's how I feel
Everybody claimin' real and holdin' still
But I be on some rollin' shit, holdin' shit
Down for my borough, Brooklyn base thorough
That's why, I do or die, like Bed-Stuy
Oh my, the shit that gets ya high
It's somethin' of a phenomenon like white lines
Me and mines run thick like Heinz
Catch up, you can't catch up, so play the rear
Over there, it's b-bass in your ear
And your eyes, so realize and recognize
A nigga dies when we terrorize
(Terror, terror)
(Terror)
(Terror, terror)
(Terror)
I don't think ya really wanna play
'Cause we be doin' niggas every day
Just like that, j-j-just like that, j-j-just like that
I cram a knife in your back
The INC don't care about you and your crew
Or them niggas that you run with, them the niggas you'll get done with, check it
We be comin' with that bigger and better and more shit
We got that raw shit
It's the I, it's the N, it's the C
No mystery, you don't want none of me
You must not know the time if you wanna try and say that
What you got there, INC? Motherfuckin' right, yo play that, hate that
(Feels so good, that my mind won't let go)
Black boy, black boy, turn that shit down
Fuck that, now feel the terror in my sound
(Terror, terror)
(Terror)
(Terror, terror)
(Terror)
(Terror, terror)
(Terror)
(Terror, terror)
(Terror)
Credits
Writer(s): John William Oates, Daryl Hall, Duval A. Clear
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