Dom Pachino, Shyheim, 9th Prince - Criminal lyrics

27, aight, Terrorist, Killarmy, yeah
Rulin' this, yea
Real niggas love this shit right here
Uh, come on
My real niggas gon' love this shit right here
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
My real niggas gonna love this shit
My real niggas gonna love this shit
Watch, my real niggas gonna love this shit
Tellin' you real niggas, only real niggas
Bump shit like this, for real

I smack niggas like you and tell 'em
Go get your gun as far as I'm concerned
You can suck dick and swallow cum
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 piss
Scared to pull your dick out i love drama
That's why surgeons know my name
In the ER 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

You hardly qualify, fuckin' wit I, Terrorist
Die i'm never calm
Niggas 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 ass 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 space
You sayin' your grace
I'm leavin' you laced, and beatin' the case
All fake niggas stay in their place
It's the thrill of "The Chase"
Tongue kiss the track
Blow out the back of the base

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 fuckin' head off
Like a sawed-off, you soft like a
Homo gettin' slain up north, word life

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