Coming out from 'War on Terror records'

[Rob E Dangerously 0]

Hit Em Up

Dub-Pac. GOP Records

 

So I bombed your base

You dumb mutha-f**ka {Take Money}

US

Terrorist Killers {Take Money}

You know who the realist is

texans as we bring it to {Take Money}

[ha ha, that's alright]

 

First off, f**k your bi**h

And the base you claim

US when we bomb

Come equipped with game

You claim to be a threat

But, I f**ked your wife

We bust on Terrorists

Texans f**k for Life

Plus Aziz tryin' to see me weak

Hearts I rip

Saddam Hussein and Al-Qaida

Some mark a*s bi**hes

We keep on coming

While we running for yah oil

Steady gunning

Keep on busting at them fools

You know the rules

Ayatolla go ask you homie

How i'll leave yah

Cut your young a*s up

See yah in pieces

Now be deceased

Mullah Omar,

Don't f**k with real a*s G's

Quick to snatch your ugly a*s, off the streets

So f**k peace

I'll let them Texans know

It's on for Life

Don't let the US

Ride the night [ha ha]

Terrorists murdered on Wax and kill

f**k with me

And get your caps peeled

You know, See

 

Chorus

 

Grab your scuds when you see Dubya

Call the cops when you see Dubya, Uhh

Who attacked us,

But, your punks didn't finish

Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of the US

biotch, I hit 'em up

 

Check this out

You mutha-f**kas know what time it is

I don't know why I'm even on this track

Y'all terrorists ain't even on my level

I'm going to let Tony Blair

Ride on yah

bi**h made a*s Terrorist bi**hes

{ahh yo, yo, hold the f**k up}

 

Get out the way yo

Get out the way yo

Saddam Hussein just got dropped

Little move pa*s the mac

And let me hit 'em in his back

Osama needs to get spanked right

For setting up traps

Little accident murderers

And I ain't never heard of yah

Poise less gats attack when I'm serving yah

Spank the shank

Your whole style when I gank

Guard your rank

Cause I'm a slam your a*s in a pang

Ayatollah weaker than a f**kin' block

I'm running through biotches

And I'm smoking Al Qaida

In front of yah biotch

With the ready power

Tucked in my Guess

Under my Eddie Bower

Your clout petty sour

I push packages ever hour

I hit 'em up

 

Chorus

 

Grab your scuds when you see Dubya

Call the cops when you see Dubya, Uhh

Who attacked us,

But, your punks didn't finish

Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of the US

biotch, We hit 'em up

 

Peep how we do it

Keep it real

Its penitentiary steel

This ain't no freestyle battle

All you terrorists getting killed

With your mouths open

Tryin' to come up off of me

You and the clouds hoping

Smoking dope

It's like a Shermine

terrorists think they learned to fly

But they burn mutha-f**ka you deserve to die

Talking about you Getting Money

But its funny to me

All you terrorists living bummy

While you f**king with me?

I'm a self made Millionaire

Thug livin', out of prison

Pistols in the Air {Air} [Ha Ha]

Saddam remember when I use to lend you money

And beg the Gipp to let you have from 'thrax

Now its all about Agression

You copied my style

Four shots couldn't drop me

I took it and smiled

Now I'm back to set the record straight

With my B-2

I'm still the prez that you love to hate

Mutha-f**ka I'll Hit 'Em Up

 

[Cheney]

I'm from W Y Wyoming.

Where plenty of murder occurs

No points to come

We bring drama to all you herds

Now go check the scenerio

Quaddafi

I'll bring you fake G's to yah knees

Copin' pleas with these

Mullah Omah is yah

Coked up or doped up

Get your little Al Qaida click smoked up

What the f**k?

Is you stupid?

I take money,

crash and mash through Baghdad

With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block

With fifteen shot,

Cocked glock to your knot

Al Qaida click moving up another notch

And your Pop stars popped and get dropped and mopped

And all your fake a*s east coast props

Brainstormed and locked

 

[Dubya]

You'se a B-writer

Dub style taker

I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing s**t but a faker

So fill the Alazhay with a chaser

'bout to get murdered for the paper

Rumsfield post the scene of the caper

Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke [uhh]

Toting smoke, we ain't no mutha-f**kin' joke

Prez Life, biotches better be known

Be approaching

In the wide open, gun smoking

No need for hoping

It's a battle lost

I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off

biotch, I hit 'em up

 

Now you tell me who won

I see them, they run [ha ha]

They don't wanna see us

Whole Al Qaida click

Dressing up to be us

How the f**k they gonna be the US?

When we always on out job

We millionaire's

Terrorism ain't fair

But somebody got to do it

 

Oh yah PLO [uhh]

You wanna f**k with us

You Little suicide bombing mutha-f**kas

Don't one of you evildoers got some pork problems or something?

You f**king with me, biotch ?

You f**k around and meet an Uzi or IDF

You better back the f**k up

Before you get smacked the f**k up

This is how we do it on our side

Any of you terrorists from the Middle East that want to bring it,

Bring it.

But we ain't singing,

We bringing bombas

f**k you and your mother f**king mamas.

We gonna kill all you mother f**kers.

Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Saddam.

Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother f**kin opinion

Well this is how we gon' do this:

f**k Osama,

f**k Saddam,

f**k Al Qaida as a staff, record label, and as a mother f**kin crew.

And if you want to be down with Al Qaida,

Then f**k you too.

Iran, f**k you too.

All you mother f**kers,

f**k you too.

(take money, take money)

All of y'all mother f**kers,

f**k you, die slow mother f**kers.

My nukes make sure all yo' kids don't grow.

You mother f**kers can't be us or see us.

We mother f**kin' Prez Life riders.

US till' we die.

Out here in Texas, biotch

We warned ya'

We'll bomb you mother f**kers.

We do our job.

You think you the mob, biotch, we the mother f**kin' mob

Ain't nuttin' but killers

And the real Texans, all you mother f**kers feel us.

Our s**t goes triple and four quadruple

You biotchess laugh cuz our army got guns under they mother f**kin' belts

You know how it is and we drop clusters they felt

You evildoers can't feel it

We the realist

f**k 'em.

We Terrorist killas.

 

[Guest Vitamin X]

Riiiiiiiiight.

[Guest evenflowDDT]

Is this a real song or something some guy typed up on a website?

[Guest Incandenza]

You obviously got this from somewhere, Rob, but you don't give any credit.

[Guest Kotzenjunge]

I actually saw some Rap album at the BALLSTON COMMONS MALL~! Fye that had some kind of 9/11 theme. This could be it.

 

Fo sheez,

Kotzenjunge

[Guest evenflowDDT]

Oh I've heard a couple 9/11-themed raps... however they were from protest-rapper Paris, and thus nowhere near this one in theme.