DOM PACHINO - My Right Hand

rate me

(feat. Black Fire)


Hey Leroy (what?) Your mama, is callin' you man

[Intro: P.R. Terrorist]

You better find out what the fuck she wants, son

Terrorist is in town, you know how we get down, son

Ya'll niggaz play too many games with me... yeah

[P.R. Terrorist]

Melodic tunes, bangin' off walls and mic rooms

Excite goons, with my mental excite, provide the boom

Write all night in my cacoon, til I hatch

An awful moon, well awaited by my fans, the album is coming soon

Abnormal birth, never spent no time in the womb

Trees and liquor confumed, til my names in the tomb

Autograph signed, with the imprint, I'm hard to find

Wouldn't even fake my death, I got way too much shit on my mind

Last night's crime, how it went down, no one around

Had the silencer to muffle the sound, a culture pound

Shit was ugly, my brand new Jordan's was lookin' muddy

That's what happens to fake niggaz, posin' like they my buddies

What a snitch, I put the cat on to gettin' rich

His whole dress code, slang that he use, to bag a bitch

Was fathered by me, gave him knowledge to know, and I succede

Shit for what it is, but trick knowledge was used against me

Now he's left in the cold, like arms lookin' for sleeves

On the witness stand, singin' 'nigga please'

You was my nigga, now my sweaty finger on the trigger

I remember, all the shit, we've been through together

Now it's over, too bad you signing off soldier, I'm out

Ya'll niggaz is snakes just like a cobra

[Chorus x3: P.R. Terrorist]

You my right hand, my nigga who fights back to back

When the shit's on, make it out safe, split all the stacks

[P.R. Terrorist] (Black Fire)

When you bustin' shots out the window, who drove the Ac'?

(When you was pattin' niggaz down with the mac, who watched your back?)

When I was on the block countin' the stack, who cooked the crack?

My right hand, my right hand, my right hand, my right hand

[Chorus x3]

[Black Fire]

I spend nights, rest in Al Pacino's crib

Layin' on the living room floor, hurtin' up ribs

Tossin' and turnin', thinkin' of this bitch I was burnin'

She wasn't learnin', not enough money I'm earnin'

[P.R. Terrorist]

Yo, get off the floor, if you wanna earn somethin'

Stop frontin', nigga, money don't grow on trees

That's why I keep my nine millennium, hooked under my sleeve

Plus momma always said, the'll be days like these

That's why, we robbin' still, stickin' up kids for they cheese

[Black Fire]

Love burglars, crooks tooks it in the N.Y.C

Two the hardway, just about the sickest M.C.'s

[P.R. Terrorist]

In your continent, in your state, in your city

International, nationwide publicity

Me and my right hand, millionaire simplicity

[Chorus x3]

[P.R. Terrorist]

You was my right hand, til you broke the code of silence

Now I'm left with no choice, gotta resort to violence

Heat out, mud of my feet, I heard the sirens

Jetted off, ran out of breath, drunk from a hydrant

Poison blew, I got guns too, let's start the firing

So I can really see, where's your heart

Get blows, story told, watch me rip 'em apart

You ain't that smart, act like you mastered the art

Of Tera Iz Him, but yet, there's one lesson to learn

If you go against the God, and Black Fire, you burn

[Outro: Black Fire]

PaChino, thou shall never betray

I'll shall slay, any enemy that's headed your way


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