Terror Reid - Step Back! (Voodoo Shit)

An alle überharten Clowns aus der Rap-Szene
Euer Sound wird zersägt, zurück bleiben nur Späne.
Weg mit Euch. Ab in die Müll-Tonne.
Dort liegt ihr gut. Neben meiner ausgelutschten Capri-Sonne.

Ich geb nicht mal Gas! Für euch reicht Sparflamme!
Passt gut auf, wenn ich euch meine Lines in die Fresse ramme!
Ihr habt Deutschrap zum Dauer-Diss degradiert.
Hört zu und lernt, wie man mit Skill formuliert.

Ich bediene kein Klischee
und verzichte auf den Hurensohn.
Ich rappe nicht auf Steuerkarte.
Euer Sound klingt wie Mindestlohn.

Ich bin kein krasser Typ. Ich rauche unterm Feuermelder.
Ihr bedient Euch am Rap Buffet mit eurem Räuber-Teller.
Packt euch bisschen davon in die Tupperdose.
Ihr seid Teilzeit-Rapper, Nichtsbringer, Arbeitslose.

Ihr PlayStation-Gangster. Zockt GTA im Story-Modus.
Goldkettchen Guerillas nur gefährlich auf Fotos.
Ihr Trap-Touristen seid Statisten im Verkehr.
Heute Einzelkämpfer. Früher Zivi, statt Bundeswehr.

Ihr einarmigen Banditen. Steht euch selbst im Weg.
Ihr seid Murmel-Mafiosi. Die niemand versteht.
Cloud Combat Veteranen. TikTok-Krieger.
Cosplay Faker. Ohne echtes Fieber.

Bin schüchtern, ja - doch auf dem Beat bin ich Boss,
auf dem Beat bin ich Boss. Kolossal und groß.
Ich bau mein Fundament. Stein für Stein.
Ehrlich und direkt, sollte Rap wieder sein.

An alle Alpha Imitate aus dem Rap-Biz.
Meine Diagnose gibt's ganz ohne Arztgeheimnis.
Mit dem alten Scheiß, geht mal lieber in den Ruhestand.
Wär doch schön: spazieren gehen mit'm Hund am Strand.

Ihr seid Zugvögel - fliegt im Schwarm, allein seid ihr verloren.
Ich bin Adler, jage solo, bin mit Krone schon geboren.
Akustisch präsent - verbal inkontinent.
Man versteht euch nicht - wie redet ihr denn?

Ich setz den Punkt auf euer Ausrufezeichen, 
bevor ihr merkt, dass ihr schreit.
Ihr wollt laut sein, ich will gehört werden,
das ist der Unterschied zur Zeit.

Ich bau kein Image, ich bau Sound, der knallt.
Kein Plastik-Gelaber, nur Werkzeug mit Halt.
In Fake-Uniform macht ihr auf hart,
ich geh nach vorn, ihr zurück auf Start.

Bin schüchtern, ja - doch auf dem Beat bin ich Boss,
auf dem Beat bin ich Boss. Kolossal und groß.
Ich bau mein Fundament. Stein für Stein.
Ehrlich und direkt, sollte Rap wieder sein.

Bleib meist im Schatten, doch auf dem Beat bin ich Boss,
auf dem Beat bin ich Boss, kolossal und groß.
Ich bau mein Fundament. Stein für Stein.
Ehrlich und direkt. So muss Rap wieder sein.

Auf dem Beat bin ich Boss (Bonus / Epilog)

TERROR REID - UPPERCUTS (PROD BY GETTER)

FUCK EVERYBODY ~by TERROR REID [soundtake.net]

Stream/Download:
http://www.hyperurl.co/othaside

OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO: https://youtu.be/I6Gvbngz-nk

its the master wicked terror creepin in ya kitchen
takin pictures of ur bitch then dippin with a vengeance
ill slice u and dice you entice you to get loose
then stitch u back together with the laces from ya dads boots

im the super cooch cougar
fingerin ya mom inside an uber going backwards
fuck backwoods
im pullin on a flask full of premium gas
in the back of ya class rockin an all black ski mask

comin w the shits that make u vomit
i see u on my dick well hop up off it
im solo dolo for the profit
she make my cock spit
(who tho?) ya bitch do yo
she on my boat right now lets see if she can float

im sick in the head twisted like a dread
terror comin back from the dead
wit a baggie full of lead and red lasers
settin fire to ya neighbors
immune to tazers
cut ya throat and eat the razor

im on the other side
drank too much bleach finally i died
everytime u look to the sky
you will see my eyes
starin back at u
with a 32 cocked
5  knives in my shoes
and a holographic mewtwo

im on the other side
popped too many pills i thought id never die
fuckin the reality i left behind
there is no after life just another knife
waitin for the psychopathic addict hiding in ya
attic plannin wen hes next attackin

the pathologic deranged homicidal prophet
obnoxious enough to stash a kilo in the cockpit
i got that sick shit ya hoe be fuckin with
knuckle bust ya lip
on a acid trip with all my lasers on my hip

call me king koopa the chemical abusa
im pullin up on ya ass with the 44 to shoot ya
i got the juice like bishop
comin to fix ur bitches makeup
then make her hiccup in ya bed before ya wake up

im goin off like a mothafuckin sprinkler
make ya knees weak before i cut u with a cleaver
and put ya body in my back pack
strapped with a fat gat
and a dead cat hangin from my fanny pack 

doin about a hundred with u in the trunk
now hold on tight becuz im bout to hit this gnarly speed bump
hear u scream and beg for mercy but i told u not to snitch
cuz if u act like a bitch u get fucked like a bitch

im on the other side
drank too much bleach finally i died
everytime u look to the sky
you will see my eyes
starin back at u
with a 32 cocked
5  knives in my shoes
and a holographic mewtwo

im on the other side
popped too many pills i thought id never die
fuckin the reality i left behind
there is no after life just another knife
waitin for the psychopathic addict hiding in ya
attic plannin wen hes next attackin

THE OTHA SIDE

BAD IN THE BUNCH ft. Top Gr33n (PROD. UNORTHODOX & NOLAN ALBRIGHT)

VID - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bFzaqo3EhAM

CLICK TO WATCH VIDEO

BURIED ALIVE 2 FEAT. TERROR REID

PROD. BY GETTER
SPOTIFY - https://t.co/KIlEL54IOE?amp=1

HOT VODKA 1 OUT NOW: terrorreid.ffm.to/hotvodka1

so check it out, finna tell u what i’m all about
ya times runnin out so don’t make me spell it out
ya fuck w reid and thats a doubt
i pull-up in ya town and blast the teeth straight up out ya mouth
w the magnum 
my style stay platinum
skills u lack em, hoes know go ask one
colder than a sickle got ladies rubbin they nipples
pretty simple
fuck around and get crippled

cuz first things first bitch i’m the boss
chew u like floss leave ya face without a bottom jaw
let the game die bitch ill kill it if i have to
and if they ask who they betta not ask you
cuz you don’t wanna fuck wit a pimp
got a dick like a blimp so i walk wit a limp
im here to show ya folks that im the realest it can get
i’ll bet my style so smooth it'll make ya mommas coochie wet

WHEN ITS ALL GONE
WHAT U BELEIVE IN
SICK OF ALWAYS HEARIN IT
WHAT U BELEIVE IN
MOTHAFUCKAS THINK IM LOSING IT
WHAT U BELEIVE IN
BUT I DONT FIVE A FUCK
KNUCKLE UP BUTTERCUP 

1 2 3 4 to the 5
suicide ain’t work im still alive
6 7 8 and the 9 millimeter 10 shots make it hot like a heater
i don’t trust much but i dust fools with a slim uppercut
takin off the mask movin up
my shit suck less then a hoe with a flat chest
ya bitch look sick so i take her to the vet

bet

my rhymes just be wicked like that
throwing up the set with a fully automatic 
i got the rhythm with the most steez hoe please 
now i gottem down on both knees
break ya bitch like bread coast to coast bodies be dead when i boast
my shit gross
the host with the most burn ya like queso
u got a problem just say so

WHEN ITS ALL GONE
WHAT U BELEIVE IN
SICK OF ALWAYS HEARIN IT
WHAT U BELEIVE IN
MOTHAFUCKAS THINK IM LOSING IT
WHAT U BELEIVE IN
BUT I DONT FIVE A FUCK
KNUCKLE UP BUTTERCUP

Follow @TerrorReid
www.twitter.com/terrorreid
www.instagram.com/terrorreid
www.facebook.com/terrorreid

WHEN ITS ALL GONE! (WHAT YOU BELIEVE IN?)

VIDEO
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m2kaDZwoE-4

ELIOZIE & TERROR REID - KRYLON

DOWNLOAD/STREAM https://terrorreid.ffm.to/outlawz

OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO: https://youtu.be/yi3C3FrgV2w

HOT VODKA 1 OUT NOW: terrorreid.ffm.to/hotvodka1

LYRICS:

(Terror Reid & Pouya)

Man, wassup?
It's Terror Reid, Pouya (Yuh, bitch)
408, 305
Coast-to-coast, you know how the fuck we ride

[Terror Reid]
I was born with the mind of a madman
Understand Terror pushin' dust like a fan
Goddamn you just found out that I'm the man? where you been at?
I get more head than a snapback cap
It's been like that since way before we bounced back
We snatching diamonds out the glass and we sell 'em right back
Fuck around and get jacked, nah, you can't have it back
The vanilla villain, always keep his train on the tracks
So gimme da cheese, hit the flo, Reid all up in ya hoe
Bust the four-five, nosedive, you ain't make it out the doe
Now we standing toe-to-toe, but I can't stand a filthy hoe
You ain't about this life so check yoself and get ghost
Oh, he ain't know?
I curl hoes toes with my flavor blasted flows
About enough dough to make a ocean explode
This ain't a joke, I ain't a TV show host
With the 305, demon doin' the most
And while we on the subject, you fuckin' with a suspect
He frontin' that we know that we fuck 'em up in public
He probably off that Prozac, swingin' from my ballsack
Just got the .9 shined, bitch made, and you don't want that
You can't rap like me, mofucka, I just started
Comin' to clean it up like Wahlberg in The Departed
So lemme pass it off to the OG trendsetta
Microphone shredda (Yuh), y'all mothafuckas betta (Yuh)

[Pouya & Terror Reid]
Follow me, follow me (Follow me)
I can show you everything you was supposed to see
Like ya family in the sea with they feet all in concrete, bitch
Grab yo' daddy's gun and come with me
(Grab yo' daddy's gun and come with me)
Follow me, follow me
I could show you everythang you was supposed to see
Like a million in cash, grab the cheddar, betta wear a mask
Outlaws in the cut, we 'bout to burn yo' ass

[Pouya]
You don't want me to bring it back to my old ways
It's always my way, baby, all-day
It's my day today, I'm playin' with the AK (Brr, brr)
Got the .40 clappin' broad day like "A Bay Bay" (A Bay Bay)
I'm feelin' myself, forty thousand on the felt
I gotta problem, can somebody give me help?
Better yet a belt, see me hangin' from my ceiling fan
No, I can't be yo Superman 'cause I can't save myself
Baby Bone got a bone to pick with rappers thinkin' they slick
They quick to lick the dick, they jumpin' ship-to-ship, no loyalty
Money, money, money, yeah, the root of evil
Got me jumping over backwards like Evel Knievel
Let me die like Elvis, where I feel my safest
I just pray the opposition don't find where the safe is
My bitches don't get fed until they bring me bread
How many rappers in my city really want me dead?
Hate turnin' to jealousy, then it turn into bullets
I look my enemy in the eye, yelling "Pussy, just pull it"
You 'bout that? I doubt that, I took yo baby mama straight to outback
And blew her fuckin' back out, I'm 'bout that

[Pouya & Terror Reid]
Follow me, follow me (Follow me)
I can show you everything you was supposed to see
Like ya family in the sea with they feet all in concrete, bitch
Grab yo' daddy's gun and come with me
Follow me, follow me
I could show you everythang you was supposed to see
Like a million in cash, grab the cheddar, betta wear a mask
Outlaws in the cut, we 'bout to burn yo' ass

(Terror Reid)
Uh, yo, HOT VODKA
Pouya, Reid
In this bitch, uh

Follow Terror Reid
http://instagram.com/terrorreid
https://twitter.com/terrorreid
https://www.facebook.com/terrorreid
https://soundcloud.com/terrorreid

Follow Pouya
https://www.pouya305.com
https://www.instagram.com/pouya
https://www.twitter.com/pouyalilpou
https://www.facebook.com/officialpouya