Bomb Threats

[Chorus x2: Stash]

Real niggas do real things

Real paper get real bling, it's all in the game

Real drugs, real guns, real murder

We spit that hot shit, you never heard of

[Stash:]

I'm that young nigga, doo-rag, hanging from my pocket

Watch it, cause I'm stealing earrings and watches

I'm one of a kind, hop out with the trey-nine

And dump some in your spine

You out of your mind, my niggas on some thugging shit

I'm too hot, for you to see me, you need oven mitts

This rap stuff, I love it, you can get

Your money and bet it, and watch you lose all of it

Ya'll niggas ate, my niggas never hate

Ya'll gay, so it's time I set the record straight

Look at my wrist, you see I got better cake

Go with my nigga Rob, if ya'll want a better wake

I'm on the nicest rock, when the blackout hit

I use my wrist to light the house

Uh, we got four chicks in the range, if I'm broke

You gon' see my five fingers on your chains

[Chorus x2]

[Mayhem:]

Between green leafs and a Dutch, dog, and pass it around

You can talk tough, as you want and get clapped to the ground

Til the cops come around and find a round in your face

We chilling on the block laughing with the tech in my waist

Your flow's lame, your crew's softer than corner store news

You barking loud at the spit, but you roll with your crew

So welcome to the barrel of rugers, see what it do to ya

Clear face, pushed in a roll of holes like a souveneir

Slow ya roll, new jack nigga, you new to this

Stick game, guaranteed to uppercut ya girl uterus

Speaking lyrics now got this language all fluent

Niggas is getting mad cause they girl is grilling me

Put the pump in his face and make his hands touch the ceiling, B

We gangbanging ya dame, and it's on purpose

Front on Mayhem if you want and get stomped in the service

I'm spitting so hot, even the letters is burning, yes

[Chorus x2]

[Hell Razah:]

What you know about that sticky green cactus?

My team be, classic, get money on some rock star status shit

I leave your face like a Billy Jean Jacket

With spitting six, niggas used to snatch Lee patches off

New Jacks, take notes, take classes

Daddy get the graveyard raps on his taxes, son

More money, more hate, more ratchets

My gun'll make him holler like a Scream 3 actress

It's worldwide bankta shit, I burn you

Your crew, and whatever else lames you get

I be a one man military, play dead like Makaveli

They build my hood up in a cemetary

Ready for the best of the worst, I ain't Blueprint 2

But I've been through The Gift and the Curse

God forbid when I'm kicking a verse, cause your label gon'

Spend your royalties on getting a herse, fuck it though...

[Chorus x2]