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Homocide
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One man show,Tropical heat abracadabra homie I bring the magic, one
well its a one man show, the mc aka Tarstar Drudo p.k.a Tropical-Heat b.k.a Abracadabra,started this rap shit a while back now we masterin it nahmean
Song Info
Genre
Hip-Hop • Hip Hop General
Charts
Peak #862
Peak in subgenre #473
Author
Tarstar Drudo
Rights
SAMRO
Uploaded
October 11, 2008
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.1 MB • 128 kbps • 3:22
Story behind the song
ripping out mc's
Lyrics
Homocide Uh uh Tarstar Drudo it’s the kid from the east u can call me the beast nigga It’s the one man army, mission is genocide Niggas try disarm me I cause homicide In stay outstanding like a bright student Dropping knowledge never heard like a scientist I must be the first artist to run ur mind like a hypnotist Nah nigga I’m not ur average artist Spit complex rhymes that confuse ur intellectual skills Niggas better hold a farm under hostage cos that’s the only way they be sitting on mills Niggas is on steroids tryna be bigger than me, niggas get rid of the pills This rap game is everlasting, so I keep my rhymes forever blasting, ever harassing, front on me I’ll snatch that stone from ya chain let that knife cut that bling from ya wrists stop tha fame yall niggas exploit tha game u could be the only rappers in the world but yall could’nt make it to the number 1 spot yall is sweeter than a soft touch to the g-spot ( Chorus ) What!! I don’t play that shit I lay a punk nigga down when I spray that shit What!! Uh get ur back ass bitch, U aint ready for this war u lyrically handicapped I’m the original rhyme spitter, lines glitter Either beat the kid gets to ride I sound better I stay on the road like centerlines on a tar road With more rhymes to infinite to count with definite skills in tack Gorilla attacks hit ya back, could never step back if u were taken aback Hit ya with punchlines that cripple ya on ur after life Niggas act hard but their freestyles still come out softer than wife Been rapping since 16, niggas is hating It must be the flow, so unique could nevber be cloned It must be the number of chicks I boned From street corners to street bashes the tracks Ive thrown It must be the rumours of the thrown I own Niggas get religious on Sundays and forget about the ciphers They remember the dipers they had to use after the ciphers The raps I decipher, yall think I’m spitting in tongues Get the Pastors, better yet get the linguistics to inspect this dialects he spits Dope lines hit ya dome, my style is unique Niggas could be Petrus Motsepe but they still could’nt touch mines I drop lines that leave my DNA on ur soul God bless u chorus
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