Artist：terror squad
Songs Title：terror era

Aiyyo Joe man whats good man
Aiyyo I hear niggaz poppin sh*t
They runnin off to the Jakes man
They talkin like you ain't hood ni**a
What's really gangsta ni**a
What up what's poppin man
Aiyyo f**k these niggaz man
Let these niggaz do 88

(yeah uh what uh yo yo)
Migga tryin to change the Ragine, I won't have that
Step in the club in Manhat at
And it feel like sat down, Jose the flow is coc*ine
Niggaz even got the nerve tryin to clone the name
It's the kid wit a thousand aliases, the hood knows
Sh*t nowadays got niggaz callin me cooked coke
I rise to the to the top and I lay it down quite flat
You can battle me up and get your money right back
Crack niggaz clap niggaz wit the fo' kid
The newspaper sh*t
Known for crackin niggaz jaws
And I don't go to court, I talk wit the hawk
Have a forensics specialist outline your corks
About time we fought man
I'm tired of this rumor sh*t, ya whole life's a lie
Let you slide but you ruin it, we the guys doin it
You only pretend
Shoot the place to merk off in my loyalty rims
Ni**a what

Yeah yeah thats whats up my ni**a
I see these niggaz ain't f**kin wit you though
But what's up wit these niggaz though man
These niggaz is ridin around in f**kin benzes and sh*t
Bentleys & all that sittin on yachts
Yea man show these niggaz what your 1's like man
What's up

I gets duece 5 a show, do 5 a week
Let y'all do the math, that's aight for me
Sh*t never claim to be the richest but the truth is
Livest ni**a you've ever seen in show biz
And you know this, notice the dime is poppin
Hold the masterpiece watch the Don be coppin
I'm like Gunny from Dead Pres'
Put the gun in your mouth and tell you how lucky you are to break bread
I'm tired of sonnin niggaz that don't believe us
I'm at ya life savers alone wit my sneakers
I went from humble beginners to ownin the Jimmy's
F**kin wit women that only want me for winnin
Only for homey sittin, scuse me but don't be shittin
I'm only bonin the b**ch is if y'all could be gettin
Ni**a what!!

Yeah that's what's up Crack
But what's up wit that b**ch when she gonna drop yo
What's up wit Remy man
Where that b**ch at man
Yeah man
Everytime I look around man I don't see no Remy man
Niggaz in the hood want you to call this b**ch out man
What's up man

Yo I don't give a f**k
I don't play that sh*t
And i feel to bust a cap on a ni**a
I run up wit a gat on a ni**a
Cock back on a ni**a
Like Rem's that b**ch and Crack's that ni**a
For every word I spit I get a** cat figures
So f**k a** clappin, I'll clap yo a** ni**a
And chick is so funny cause I gets gully
Rocks throwbacks and fitteds ni**a, hoodies and skullies
Am I fist is a pack on my wrist is a Jacob
And I gotta a ＂mac＂ and I don't mean make up
Sellin pies on da block like, I sell aranathum
Do you want it raw? Or do want me to bake em?
Get the bag it cut it shop it f**k it it's mothin
Got the product the power and the will to do the hustle
Sh*t it's sicker than vomit, I swear to God it's disgustin
Hot an' fresh out the kitchen so these b**ches can't touch it
You gotta love it I'm buggin word to my cousin Tequila
Slap the sh*t outta any b**ch interferin wit my scrilla
See a ni**a he can get it too, f**k what your dick a do
Even if I stuttered I will still ＂shi shi sh*t on you＂
My ni**a L.V.