100 Percent

[Dom Pachino]
Just tell me who's better than, this military lyrical veteran
It's guaranteed that this year, nigga, we gon' get it in
From here to El Paso, I be swinging my laso
I rise and gon' keep it a hundred, don't give me no hassle
Quit being an asshole, I'm so tired and fake
I play the role like Mel Carter, nigga, give me a break
I'm hot, like a bitch in spring break
I'm hot, like the young new nigga Drake, but on an underground for goodness sake
I'm a lot more dirty, baby, let's take a mud bath
I'm fly like when the skuds blast, don't give me no riff raff
Please take a seat, and gather around
And come listen to the Terrorist sound
This is Napalm music, know how we get down
On the day to day, you bitches wanna play today?
I'm a fresh thing, like a Gatorade, please take a sip
And tell me how you like the taste of this Terrorist shit?

[Chorus: Just Da Barber]
Don't don't dare try to fuck with this music
That rude shit, that make you pop off quick
Niggas I went to school with be packing a tool wit
Jump in a cool whip, just to blast off quick
Taking nothing less, then a hundred percent
I'm taking nothing less, than a hundred percent, nigga

[Dom Pachino]
You know the kid's back to raise my value like valuum
I had an epiphany, in the sauna with my pad and my towel
Let's raise caine, shit on the game, I move a vowel
I shoot my raps like an arrow, off the bow with pharaoh
Yo, where you been, P, last spotted in a black beemer
Interior, send 'em and sprinkle the team with farina
Women say I clean the relics, just with Noxyema
She cracked a smile on the face, once she seen my ice gleam up
Let's get your mind off my peanuts
I got a pre-nub, accounts come tight
Cock harder than a tree stump, and that's all you get aight?
I got a stick-up mentality
If you caught me in '96, I got a stick-up man salary
Dom pop a nigga from the gun bust academy
A graduate with plans to live lavishly
Terrorist bring the pain, I raise 'caine on you savages

[Chorus]

[Dom Pachino]
Raise 'caine like a coke price, my lyrics like
Crack dope ice, emphidemes, extra C's, special K, crystal meth
If you listen to them loud, you might end up deaf
I dice you up like a chef
We decide to stay hard, since there's no more left
It's like there's only club music
What happened to that true New York thug music, that started this shit
It's like it's gone and the next, leave retardly sick
But we the last of a dying breed, when the game's in a dyer need
My real soldiers please vow for me
As we start this campaign, and bring back the origin
From where this hip hop came, nigga