Death Threat Lyrics - Heavy Rhyme Experience, Vol. 1 - Brand New Heavies

Some think that I'm a flake, but I'm no fake nigga 

Cause I'll drink a bitch, make him a witch and burn his ass at the stake 

With a .44 mag it's so simple 

Put it to his temple 

Fuck it, I give a nigga permanent dimples 

Easing up on the fast slow, but I'll let your ass know 

The block's still hot like Tabasco 

Brand New Heavies on the tracks, G Rap on the wax 

Cold bumping, got motherfuckers doing jumping jacks 

You motherfuckers lost it 

I bake your ass like a cake and all ya flakes can frost it 

Cause when G Rap is on the mix 

Niggas start shittin bricks and turn into chicks with small dicks 

So a bitch, lyrics with a live band 

(Yo this shit is funky) Yo fuck funky, the shit hit the fan 

Shame if you're stepping to my set 

You niggas get wacked, nah fuck it, it's just a motherfuckin death threat 

Yeah, I got you bitches on lockdown, you niggas get knocked down 

You're runnin cause I'm gunnin your block down, punk 

So save the bitch riff cause my four-fifth lifts 

I'm tossing stiffs off of fuckin cliffs 

Get close, I got you on scope, you walking on thin rope 

So I'm a shoot 'em up like dope 

Cause to make my notes I'm a cut throats 

Bodies are thrown off boats and do a dead man's float 

Straight down a river 

Heh, with a bullet inside his motherfuckin liver 

Another hoody got thrown out 

Stepped right into the crossfire ya got her brains blown out 

So you niggas better duck 

Cause when my pump's full of buckshots, I don't give a fuck 

You think you're down with them murder guys 

Bullshit, say hello to that dirt you're gonna fertilize 

You wonder why the area stunk 

Homicides just fell ten bones since our car drove 

When they opened the other trunks that was closed 

Mummified unidentified John Does 

All found dead on arrival 

Cause I pulled up slowly and made 'em holy like Bibles 

They found a letter and cassette 

Read it, said it's just a motherfuckin death threat 

Send these bodies to a morgue for a freezin 

I got my motherfuckin finger on the trigger cause it's nigga season 

A punk tried to drop me 

I left his body sloppy so they can't perform an autopsy 

Dig a hole for the bitch 

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 your name, your address, and your phone number 

So if you want to play games 

I'm throwin you the fuck out the frame 

You tried to front and got murdered last night 

So now you float to the motherfuckin light 

So I'm a step to your grave and make a toast 

And start shootin at your motherfuckin ghost 

So may the Lord be with ya 

Cause I ain't no saint and I don't paint a pretty pictures 

It ain't nothing but bloodshed 

Stains of brains on the rug and left slugs in your head 

You want to make me upset? 

Heh, then I'm a promise you a motherfuckin death threat