[Dom Pachino] Aiyo, danger on this track, name ringing on the Stat' The game changes, the kid got famous with the rap Larry Davis when he rap, came in, sprayed on the track True player, from the Himolaya, he a mack Dom P one of them niggas you know, plus you know he lethal If I came off in the first season, you know the'd be a sequel I dance on 'em, you don't even got a chance on 'em Him is me, and he is I And he still fly, nigga, it's do or die And if you try, it's homicide War poetry, Terrorist shit, nigga, you know it's me The impeccable, street respectable Fat blacks hoodies macks, and a tech or two Check your crew, before I have 'em laid out Hit the deck in two, or you can get stripped and laid out
[Chorus: Dom Pachino] There's an angel in the sky, but we don't believe in him It's dangerous when he rhyme, so we had to hit the streets for him There's an angel in the sky, but we don't believe in him It's dangerous when he rhyme, so we had to hit the streets for him There's an angel in the sky, but we don't believe in him It's dangerous when he rhyme, so we had to hit the streets for him Let's twist one back for the kid, and blow a tree for him Let's twist one back for the kid, and blow a tree for him
[Dom Pachino] Yo, feel the fusion, Terrorist is not an illusion I'm here in the flesh, right now at my best With this rap shit about who's popping Tell me is it still down south, or can I give 'em some options I swear my Dirty Doctrine, still is toxic If they ain't talking logic, it's not ironic My beats get laid down, they super sonic The world's gone numb now, I'm a beast with this heart And these streets we on it, we rip 'em apart Terrorist is him, Terrorist high jack If you not in the plane, I toss 'em out the Cadillac I'm on my G mack, and my G grind You don't start none, son, and it'll be fine So what they gonna say about this one? Is it lackluster? I like to put hands on niggas, and gat touch 'em I'm the shit, and that's a fact, and you a rat To be exact, you a fake hustler That wish you had my swag, I'm quality like weed and jars And nigga you were stealing bags Not even B could upgrade ya So listen to this Terrorist shit and do yourself a favor
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Copy to Clipboard: [Dom Pachino] Aiyo, danger on this track, name ringing on the Stat' The game changes, the kid got famous with the rap Larry Davis when he rap, came in, sprayed on the track True player, from the Himolaya, he a mack Dom P one of them niggas you know, plus you know he lethal If I came off in the first season, you know the'd be a sequel I dance on 'em, you don't even got a chance on 'em Him is me, and he is I And he still fly, nigga, it's do or die And if you try, it's homicide War poetry, Terrorist shit, nigga, you know it's me The impeccable, street respectable Fat blacks hoodies macks, and a tech or two Check your crew, before I have 'em laid out Hit the deck in two, or you can get stripped and laid out
[Chorus: Dom Pachino] There's an angel in the sky, but we don't believe in him It's dangerous when he rhyme, so we had to hit the streets for him There's an angel in the sky, but we don't believe in him It's dangerous when he rhyme, so we had to hit the streets for him There's an angel in the sky, but we don't believe in him It's dangerous when he rhyme, so we had to hit the streets for him Let's twist one back for the kid, and blow a tree for him Let's twist one back for the kid, and blow a tree for him
[Dom Pachino] Yo, feel the fusion, Terrorist is not an illusion I'm here in the flesh, right now at my best With this rap shit about who's popping Tell me is it still down south, or can I give 'em some options I swear my Dirty Doctrine, still is toxic If they ain't talking logic, it's not ironic My beats get laid down, they super sonic The world's gone numb now, I'm a beast with this heart And these streets we on it, we rip 'em apart Terrorist is him, Terrorist high jack If you not in the plane, I toss 'em out the Cadillac I'm on my G mack, and my G grind You don't start none, son, and it'll be fine So what they gonna say about this one? Is it lackluster? I like to put hands on niggas, and gat touch 'em I'm the shit, and that's a fact, and you a rat To be exact, you a fake hustler That wish you had my swag, I'm quality like weed and jars And nigga you were stealing bags Not even B could upgrade ya So listen to this Terrorist shit and do yourself a favor
[Chorus 2X]
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