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- Theodore Unit - Pass the Mic Lyrics
- Uploaded by LOVE4LYRICS at Pastebin.com
- [Intro: Du-Lilz]
- Ya'll muthafuckas know who this be
- It's Theodore, yo, let me hear somethin' my nigga
- Let me hear something
- [Wigs]
- We the champion, we spit like, top of the line
- Hold weight while you still push nickel and dime
- And my shine hold my stones than your local jeweler
- More ice than a picnic cooler, Slick Wigs the Ruler
- Round the raincoat, stash my gat in the car wash
- How I got such a smooth flow, but I spit too harsh
- Butter nut squash leather, big face cheddar
- Don't fuck with no groupie, hid in a high school sweater
- We rope rats, roll money stuffed in stacks
- Rock show after show, and don't claim no tax
- Got custom deep pockets and my pimpin' slacks
- And my tephlon shirt, in case they got gats
- [Trife Da God]
- Yo Wigs, this is Theodore, you know how we rock it
- [Solomon Childs]
- Trife Da God, show these niggas why they ain't poppin'
- [Trife Da God]
- I'm not enthused, by these rap dudes
- All in they videos, posin' half nude, with all of them tattoos
- Til I blacken they eyes and have them lookin' like raccoon
- Now they stuck tail, stuffed in they ass like a baboon
- I do you dirty like a table chop, and the blocks on fire
- These niggas be rockin' more wires than a cable box
- Hit you with a fatal shot, lay you to rest
- Get your cradle rocked, by two glocks aimed to your chest
- They say it's deep, and never lose his stripes
- Well put his ass in a cage with this iron, bet he lose his life
- I'm a beast like Priest Holmes, keep spittin' them weak poems
- And I'mma wreck you and straight disconnect you like cheap phones
- You can ride for you team and die with the marines
- For tryin' to intervene, while I'mma tryin' to get this CREAM
- [Ghostface Killah]
- Aiyo, knick knack patty wack, light up, twist a fatty jack
- Four shotties, and playin' them lobbies where those cracks be at
- Stay foul, break vows, niggas sniff gun pow-der
- Check my caliber, make sure it register
- Bring forth your head and stuff, don't wanna huff, puff
- Or cuss, get stuffed in little bags, like angel dust
- Check out the bangle cuts, double rocks, tangled up
- And couples got bubbles, in the tub, lightin' the double Dutch
- Hey, hey, hey, Ghostface and Donna Jay
- Trife Dies', Killa Bamz, Wigs, Kryme got the yay'
- All day, all up in your hood like court dates
- Concealed heat, like a sheep dog or a NorthFace
- Small space, more bass, polly like shore bait
- Molly got four trays, and pinned dog with raw haze
- Just like the old days, Willie Mays, with a low cut fade
- Duster play the Giant, when I'm on stage
- [Trife Da God]
- Pretty Tone, yeah I see you in the cockpit
- [Solomon Childs]
- Donna Jay, put his face in the dirt like an ostrich
- [Cappadonna]
- Nah, I don't really have to spit nothin' to complex
- I just rep for my hood, and it sound correct
- It's mic checka, Juan Don, in the place to be
- And I be playin' on these tracks, like one, two, three
- One some Theodore shit, like it once was me
- With the laid back shit, like the country be
- Bone the hoes, all the time, smoke blunts with G
- Goon Squad Hooligans, got fronts in Jeeps
- Why you jealous muthafuckas gotta jump my beats
- Trife Diesel and Ghostface dump they heats
- In your face, real hard, straight lump they meats
- Wont sell cracks to you, but I pump the streets
- And tear pussy out the frame, while you hump the sheets
- And I know ya'll niggas hate, and can't wait til I'm gone
- That's why I keep drivin' on by, tootin' my horn
- Da-da-da-de-da-duhhhh
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