PR Terrorist Criminal (Ft. Shyheim and 9th Prince) Lyrics

f/ 9th Prince, Prodigal Sunn, Shyheim

[Intro: Shyheim]
27, aight, Terrorist, Killarmy, yeah
Rulin' this, yea, real n____s love this s___ right here
Uh, come on, my real n____s gon' love this s___ right here
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
My real n____s gonna love this s___, my real n____s gonna love this s___
Watch, my real n____s gonna love this s___, tellin' you
Real n____s, only real n____s b__p s___ like this, for real

[Shyheim]
I smack n____s like you and tell 'em, go get your gun
As far as I'm concerned, you can suck d___ and swallow c__
I'm God's son, the rose of salvation
Product of the ghetto, I'm the street's creation
I move like vampires, only at night
Handgrip like pliers, on the glock wit rapid fire
It's automatic, Shyheim keeps a ratchet
Me and thugs run together like cigarettes and matches
Better give me mines, or I'mma let them rob you
What would you do, when the dogs say you fool?
Run in hideouts? Let me find out
You squat when you p___, scared to pull your d___ out
I love drama, that's why surgeons know my name
In the E.R. unit, for givin' cats pain
I catch another "Buck 50", 'fore I give up my chain
I'm God when I'm angry, makin' thunder and rain

[P.R. Terrorist]
You hardly qualify, f___in' wit I, Terrorist, die
I'm never calm, n____s scheme on gold and plat' charms
Wit leathers and goose feathers on, I never felt the weather warm
It's hot like when the sweaters torn, from the lead of Desert Storm
Your resume was never sworn, I'm sharper than the cactus thorn
My practice on the patient's juggler, his a__ was gone
Backdrafts the norm', expose the chemical bombs
Criminals, cons, thug drug dealers that carry arms
Yo, leprechaun, show me the pot of gold
Before my slug blow pain at third nostril like Picasso
In your face, invadin' my s___e, you sayin' your grace
I'm leavin' you laced, and beatin' the case
All fake n____s stay in their place, it's the thrill of "The Chase"
Tongue kiss the track, blow out the back of the base

[9th Prince]
Fifty four shots aimed at your knot
We plot like them killers who shot Tupac
Shyheim, pass me the iron glock, we keep crime in stock
Platinum frame specs got me lookin' like Cyclops
We hardcore like gang wars wit C4, raw like cavemen fightin' dinosaurs
Outlaws, when I hear streets call, we brawl
My dogs start to crawl, like project pitbulls
Iron Metal Jackets is full, ready to blow ya f___in' head off
Like a sawed-off, you soft like a h___ gettin' slain up north, word life

[Chorus 2X: P.R. Terrorist, Prodigal Sunn]
Everybody wanna be a thug
Nobody wanna feel a slug, crush, stay mug
Everybody wanna weep when they see the slugs
Yet everybody coppin' pleas when they see the judge
It's Criminal