Lyrics Terror Squad – Hum Drum

Hook 1
Down…
The paint is peelin’
Now…

Verse 1: Remy Ma
Yea ..
I gets it poppin everybody know what remy bout(bout)
Got niggaz shocked like justin just pulled janets titty out(out)
Yea I spit it out(out) quick to put a nigga out(out)
The bullets larged in doctors can’t get ’em out(out)
You gets no love to me y’all dead bugs
My records don’t sell then I’ma sell drugs
From o’s to whole p’s
Grams to whole keys
No joke I got coke that’ll make ya nose bleed
Dope so potant and my fiends done od’d
For Three-Fifty a pop I’ll sell you a dro seed
You really don’t know me and thats the fun part
See my flows retarded but miss martin is dumb smart
And you iliterate you can’t even read the tele-prompter
I got niggaz flying me weed in by helicopter
You look sad when I pass in this toy benz
You gon’ be real mad when I bag ya boyfriend

Hook 2
Down…

Verse 2: Armageddon
You can feel my pain like a drug You can light it with fire
And you can mix it with your blood if your tryna get higher
Another angel in a thugs body scarred and tired
Going to court got a luminati judgin’ me biased
Shit I talk ain’t for everybody Walkin united
The way I walk its a challenge just to balance on wires
My old connect put me on Said he robbed the supplier
So I pieced him out with pity cause his ass was on fire
What goes around comes around holmes I ain’t lyin’
Thats why the scarrs on my face cause bad karma and violence
Just before a nigga wake I spend the night in silence
To give my nerves a little break before its back to the malace
I’d like to dedicate this rhyme to old emotional scars
Some nights I meditate hopin’ Bring me closer to god
Tryna’ regulate my time between the earth and the stars
Get my health back to determine whenI’mi curlin’ them bars

Hook 2

Verse 3: Prospect
Yo this the upcoming success Definition of prospect
Put ya money on me you get recognition and profits
On any condition I drops it
On a mission no listen to gossip
Whether splittin imposters
Sorta like a mobsters and my niggaz I got ya
We all gon be eatin soon like italians with pasta
Smokin weed eatin curry chicken like the rastas
After that go to city Island and get the lobsters
Now can I get a witness lemme show y’all my visions
Never had a job but still take care all my business
No ged only diploma was my lyrics
I rhyme heavenly and let souls just off the appearance
And rap so I keep my dough stacks
Dont me go back and clap clap At yo do’ matt like nigga hold that
Theres no feelings I’m feelin’ cause when I’m feelin
I’m killin’ the motherfucker right on his trip
Then killin’ the villan what

Hook 2: till fade