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letra de 4. r.i.p (corrected) - triple threat

madrox:
product of the ghetto
three jokers like romero, nicholson and leto
real kind, yea we blast on the instrumental
smiling t–th behind bandannas and influential
and i’m mental at the same time make it special
rhyme my rhymes like bullet holes f-ck the pen & pencil
make casualty out of foes, body make a stencil
for the sidewalk chalk, they said he had potential
but he dead now, that’s the story of the compet-tion
the b-tches don’t exist in the mix of any music i listen
it’s like divine intervention
but can you separate the trill from the ill that’s the question
g’s up, f-ck hoes always been the same since forever in a day
ain’t a d-mn thing changed and the m-th-f-ckin’ music gon’ play
three fingers in the air
give a f-ck what they say

chorus:
thugs, felons, hoods, g’s
stay the day loaded and we’ll make you rep the beat
anybody want some?, k!llas, rough necks
even baby g better show the 3 some respect
anybody steppin’ better lay down, if you feelin’ some kind of way now, we’ll leave everybody dead, oh
rip just like the m-th-rf-ckin’ soul said

monoxide:
light the end of the weed up
and let the trunk pop
turn your front lawn into a hood store parking lot
i got the beat bangin’ like blue jeans
hotter than the buffalo sauce without the blue cheese
i said i ain’t fly no more i got the new wings
i got ‘em all watchin’ how we do things, changing up the routines
aw – you ain’t f-ckin with the new team
i don’t give a f-ck how you doing
i just want to find out where you stand, start shooting f-ck arguing i got no time for it, i’d rather get my d-ck sucked and just ignore it i get for it cause your writing a check and your mouth get paid for it
i’ll b-tch slap your lips back
snap quick like kit kat’s
you’re on my galaxy like i was chris pratt
i wanna f-ck, where your b-tch at
better put a leash on it or we’re gon have a mishap

blaze:
put your eyes forward, triple threat, get it lit
man every set, where they at, f-ck the b-tches actin hostile
bible ain’t no rival in the team
put your three fingers up if you f-ckin with me
east side, i still claim, ain’t a tight -ss
somebody turned up dead in the bas-m-nt – nothin’ changed
think we in the same lane highly confused
four second story tellin got me midly amused
but like every politican you’re abusing your power
time to hit the pot, or better yet, hit the showers
yous some cowards, what you’d thought i’d stay back – never that
the credits on the block bringin’ sevens on the track
you b-tches still like the debt, thought you accept
representin’ what i think somebody always get the grip
rest in peace with your edits
who discredit the fam
triple threat is back and we ain’t even going ham

- triple threat

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