The Terrorists - f** The Media lyrics

[Dope-E] Yeah, getting ready to slash to media... You see, what you need to do is start jocking the right information... f** the media coming straight from The Terrorists crew I don't love none of ya'll hoes so f** you You never understand the things I write Until you spend a night in the South Park twilight I'm steadily trying to reach my black folks But all you wanna see is a n***a with black locs And you be knowing what the f** we be saying And you know damn well we ain't playing Now, as simple as that, stop spreading lies Before I place M-60 right between your eyes (Yikes!) Cause now ya'll got me mad as hell And all you jealous pens' writing tattle tales But I don't give a f** about your a** See, ya'll just mad a n***a rolling in cold cash I'm down with Rap-A-Lot Now I got a lot And I'll be damned to let you f** over what I got I kick that knowledge on a roughest tip Call Egypt soft, you be bloody with a busted lip All because I rap with a slang and hang... With the South Park Coalition game Together forever, hard n***as real tight Everybody strapped with them 9's and we will fight Crashing bodies and throwin 'em in the trash Grab their pens and pads and shove it up their a** f** the media... [Bushwick Bill] Left channel: f** them motherf**ers, Dope-E! Me and Dope-E are the world's first fully functional homicide agency. You don't really wanna f** with me. Wait till they get a load of us! Right Channel: f** them motherf**ers, Dope-E, cause I don't love 'em! Them motherf**ers come on TV f**ing with you, man... Nothing but lies f**ing us... Wait till they get a load of me... [Dope-E] You ask why I rap about violence and not peace Hoe, get out my face before I burn you with some hot grease Yeah, Dope-E know the game cause I'm down See, everything I tell you now later it'll be changed around Now, why you wanna start some static... With The Terrorists knowing damn well we cause tragic Fatal disasters, you betta run and hide Cause I play Quincy and inject you with some cyanide Catch somebody else, one by one, that oughta get 'em If not I'm forced to use another form of terrorism Either I'm violent or silent, bodies still drop Johnny lost steps up, no sweat, Nip k**s cops See, what you fail to understand I'm a black poet A brainchild of this society, so blow it Out your a**hole, 'cause I write what I see... In the streets of Houston and on the screens of the TV And that's the way it is and that's the way it gonna be And keep your distance and your hands off me When I'm in concert give me some clearance Remember, fatal mishaps happen when there interference f** the media... [Bushwick Bill] Left Channel I likes the way it sounds... (laughs) But yo, dig this, man, them motherf**ers ain't never been where we been; They never seen what we have seen. Yeah, I tried to k** myself, but I got shot in the eye. And then the media wanna ask me why? What if I were to put you under the same pressures you put me under? How would you like the microscope to be on your a**? Don't you know that the ghetto's nothing but a modern day Vietnam, and my backyard is a concentration camp? And you wonder why I smoke amp? Because you motherf**ers put it in my neighborhood, 'cause you always up to no good! But f** you, f** the government, and f** everything you stand for, 'cause you say that we're "All the same, all created equal"? The only thing that's equal is the fact that you're white and know how to add up, (scoffs) and subtract my black a** from what's rightfully mines! It's ok...It all don't have to make sense, see, cause I already know that I'm not all together there, but your psychiatrist put me there! But f** 'em. f** them all! All I need is more knowledge, more wisdom and more understanding, so I can see even clearer, and then I'll f** over your b**h a**! Right channel: f** them motherf**ers. Goddamn them sons of b**hes. Don't they know who they f**ing with? Don't they know I'm their worst nightmare? I'm a type of motherf**er you think you see, but I'm not really there. But all my thoughts are clear, 'cause I live off of fear. All I wanna do is s** your blood dry and smoke some fry, and your mama wanna ask me why... (laughs) Man, f** them, man! You like to report sh**? Well, report me getting my motherf**ing fist out of your mother's forehead, 'cause I know half of my body is Chucky and the other half is Bushwick, And f**ing over media ain't nothing but "Child's Play!" The f**ing media with that Tell-Lie-Vision --- I already know you're "telling lies to my vision"! And Dope-E is ready to light some true facts, and you are just straight up full of sh**! Weather reporters? We be out there on the streets. We are in the middle of a war zone. Y'all sit back behind your desk and send some other s**er to tell you some sh** that ain't even true, but if you keep f**ing with me, you gonna know what is what...! Both channels: Yai-yai-yaiks on your b**h a**!