[Intro: Dom Pachino]
Yeah (uh-huh, uh-huh), nigga, it's fucking Dom P., nigga
P.R. Terrorist, ya'll niggas heard me, yo
[Dom Pachino]
Who to blame? Stick and move like Sugar Shane
Catch me on the Cayman Isle, chewing on sugar cane
With a bad ass dame, I brought from the grain
She hold me down and her pussy hold my cocaine
Pretty thug, usually dressed in Gucci, carry a black uzi
Kick ass, you thought I was trained by Mr. Fuji
Smoke trees and blunts, nevear looseleafs, my life's a real movie
Shot real niggas, with real toolies
Spit facts of hot tracks, that be real groovy
Excuse me for my '60's slang, but I've been in a '67 Mustang
Just doing my thang, or maybe in a Chevy truck
Sitting on 24's, bitches looking very stuck
Some time my situation seem like luck, but I work, hard for this
Stick to the script, real nigga rap, I got my gat on my hip
Don't need no back, I got a tight ass grip
Plus keep a stack, in case I gotta take a trip
Keep a bitch with a onion, case I gotta make a tip
[Chorus 2X: Dom Pachino]
I fell victim to the fame...
I fell victim to the fame...
I fell victim to the fame...
Stacks and dough, groovy bitches and cocaine
[Dom Pachino]
Who's the Spanish kid, damage your shit and he be reppin'
True and nasty track, get the track moving just my weapon do
Dude disrespecting who, playboy, I thought you knew
Killarmy's a congegration of niggas that'll murder you
You talking prime time, no bells ringing, never heard of you
And if I did, and you fucking with fam, then I'm serving you
Personally, ain't no rehearsing this speech
I give you chills, when I come through like a chalk board screech
I never ask for nothing twice, I usually take it
You'se a tool that don't work right, and usually break it
I'm a keep a real nigga, that usually fake it
Ya'll play around with bitches, I spit for naked
I'mma hit you with that Smith & Wess' I found in the lake, kid
Ya'll don't hear me? Then ya'll don't need to be near me
I'm not insane, I think it's just a life of pain
Rap, stacks and drugs, just, run through my vein
Not to mention, all that life'll do up
All the time I had to pull out and hit the floor
Exchange shots, empty the clip, and serve one more
And if no one got hit, then we call it a draw
It's hood life, if you been there, I don't need to tell you
If you smell like spider pussy, I don't need to smell you
Play ya part, my thoughts is like, state of the art
X-ray, don't play, slugs'll rip you apart
[Chorus 2X]
