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letra de death threat - the brand new heavies

[verse 1]
some think that i’m a flake, but i’m no fake n-gga
’cause i take a b-tch, make him a witch and burn his -ss at the stake
with the .44 mag, it’s so simple, put it to his temple
f-ck it, i give a n-gga permanent dimples
easin’ up on a fast slow, but i let your -ss know
the rhyme’s too hot like tabasco
brand new heavies on the tracks, g rap on the wax
cold bumpin’, got motherf-ckers doin’ jumpin’ jacks
you motherf-ckers lost it
i bake your -ss like a cake and all y’all flakes get frosted
’cause when g rap is on the mix
n-ggas start sh-ttin’ bricks and turn into chick with small d-cks
so i spit lyrics with a live band
(yo, this sh-t is funky) no, f-ck funky, this sh-t hits the fan
see, if you’re steppin’ to my set, you n-ggas get wet
nah, f-ck it, it’s just a motherf-ckin’ death threat

[verse 2]
yeah, i got you b-tches on lockdown
you n-ggas get knocked down
you’re runnin’ ’cause i’m gunnin’ your block down, punk
so save the b-tch riff ’cause my four-fifth lifts
i’m tossin’ stiffs off f-ckin’ cliffs
get close, i got you on scope, you walkin’ on thin rope
so i’mma shoot ’em up like dope
’cause to make my notes, i’mma cut throats
bodies are thrown off boats and do a deadman’s float
straight down a river
ha! with a bullet inside his motherf-ckin’ liver
another hooker got thrown out
stepped right into the crossfire and got her brains blown out
so you n-ggas better duck
’cause when my coat’s full of buckshots, i don’t give a f-ck
you think you’re down with the murder guys?
bullsh-t, say h-llo to that dirt you’re gonna fertilize
you wonder why the area’s stunk?
homicide’s just found ten bones inside of a car trunk
when they opened the other trunks that were closed
full of five unidentified john does
all found dead on arrival
’cause i pulled up slowly and made ’em holy like bibles
they find a letter and c-ssette
read and said it’s just a motherf-ckin’ death threat

[verse 3]
sendin’ bodies to a morgue for a freezin’
i got the motherf-ckin’ finger on a trigger ’cause it’s n-gga season
a punk tried to drop me
i left his body sloppy so they can’t perform an autopsy
dig a hole for the b-tch
and put all of his pieces and bits inside a ditch
yo, you don’t think you’re goin’ under?
i got a bullet with ya name, ya address, and ya phone number
so if you wanna play games
i’m blowin’ you the f-ck out the frame
you tried to front and got murdered last night
so now you float to the motherf-ckin’ light
so i’mma step to your grave and make a toast
and start shootin’ at your motherf-ckin’ ghost
so may the lord be with ya
’cause i ain’t no saint and i don’t paint no pretty pictures
and it ain’t nothin’ but bloodshed
stains of brains on the rug and lead slugs in your head
you wanna make me upset?
ha! then i’mma promise you a motherf-ckin’ death threat

- the brand new heavies

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