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Terror Squad Lyrics
Lyrics
Lean back
Lean back (remix)
Take me home
Streets of ny
Nothings gonna stop
Thunder in the air
Pass away
Terror era
Bring 'em back
As the world turns
That's my shit
Hum drum
My kinda girls
'99 live
Pass the glock
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Terror Squad Lyrics
NEW Lyrics!
Tell me what u think
War
All around the world
Bring it on
Payin' dues
Whatcha gon' do?
Feelin' this
Rudeboy salute
Triple threat
In for life
Gimme dat
[ Terror Squad Lyrics ]

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Yeah Yeah Yeah Lyrics
Tip → Link this page:  http://www.mp3lyrics.org/N24A
Lyrics Language: English
Song writer/composer(s): Marc D Shemer, Joseph Anthony Cartagena, Lalo
Schifrin, Mike Curb, Remy Kioni Smith

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Terror Squad Yeah Yeah Yeah Lyrics:
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Check it

You see the girl get's it popping like no other
Now they call me streets cause I, be on the block and I'm so gutter
My flow a butter; see Rem got a whole lot of game
But none of y'all lame dudes going to fuck her
I'm on some chill shit, but if you fronting then I will flip
I'll give it to a little chick real quick
Oh you a real bitch? You ain't a bit real

You got little tits and your face looks like em mitt till
First I'm a get it hot, then I'm a get a deal
My budget none stop, mine paying ten mills
And when I'm not in the hood, I'm rocking the hood
Smoke Vanilla Dutches and stuff on Holly a wood
And if I, pollyin' the dick it's got to be good
I tell him I could change his life just like the lottery could

And now I got him good, he believes me and he should
Some dudes won't go down but a lot of them would
I know this nigga name, eat it out, he like to eat it out
I just cooked in the crib and he still want to eat it out
Oh god its Remy Martin
In a hot pink Porsche with the purple carpets
Nigga

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Oh god

Hot enough swinging crack, who could believe he's in the cockpit
Overseas moving key's like a locksmith
Rocks from wit sick in the sits of neck
All I do is warn cause that's the big boy jet
Uh, you never rocked with the R in Chicago
I picked up a bad bitch in a Marcielago
I got cribs better year estates man

I'm in L.A. with Atlanta plates fam
Still niggaz wanna go against crack
But that's like?, going against Shaq
And that's too much Diesel, I got too much people
Motherfuckers, you crazy I'll leave you
And I ain't got to tell how many sets I trip
But you can find me on the woods now that's a testament
Or maybe at a lounge with an extra bitch

Eyecandy of the month, god damn she's sick
She got a problem, I can help her with that
Tell her man that she's fuckin' with crack
Bet he won't do nothin'
Frontin' like he gon' do somethin'
Quick to tell you that his whole crew stunting
Talk to me, c'mon

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah, feel that right there
Nod your head to this shit right here, that real Hip Hop right there
It's cook coke crack, TS, Remy Mar
Album coming, summer's ours cocksuckers
True story, BX Burough

Lyrics: Yeah Yeah Yeah, Terror Squad [end]
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Lyrics Publishers:
© EMI HASTINGS CATALOG INC
© JOEY AND RYAN MUSIC
© WARNER-TAMERLANE PUBLISHING CORP
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The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org


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