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redrum where i'm from - amb lyrics

(otis)
yeah,
it’s redrum where i’m from
come get some,
from the sick ones,
broke–ss millionaires and rich b-ms.
it’s all a matter of how you put it all together.
we the type that wear skullies in hundred-degree weather
and never sweat, nevertheless,
jealous eyes despise the a-x-e hangin’ around my neck, check
but we in this b-tch and we be deptermined as f-ck,
like fat kids that be chasin’ after the ice cream truck, what?!
now here’s one for all you emcees that wanna dis,
next time you think about hatin’ remember this,
i’m out on tour in yo cities gettin’ sick,
so the next time you kiss your b-tch you might taste my d-ck!
i am the blood that eats your pen,
i am the sickness that infects your rhymes as you spit them.
so as you rappers scream my name out,
i’m makin’ your tongue turn black and fall outta your mouth,
it’s redrum where i’m from

(chorus)x2
it’s redrum where i’m from
wicked 3-0-3
and we w-e-s-t-s-i-d-e
it’s redrum where i’m from
wicked 3-0-3
and we don’t, and we don’t, don’t f-ck with me!

(bonez dubb)
it’s redrum capita of b-yo and it c-tough and it erupts
and you mothaf-ckas that think you got us beat but you can’t see us, (what?!)
i be the type that gotta get that paper quick
and i ain’t afraid to put a red dot on yo head and drop a clip, talkin’ sh-t
stacks to watch ride off in yo griss
grid lock when you get caught in that blood and crip walk sh-t, b–tch!
i’ma let this be the first time i admit,
that if you come here you leave wit a pair of bl–dy open writsts!
rest in peace, no you could rest in p-ss,
when i do this sh-t so sick you think my name was brotha lynch!
it ain’t sh-t
i’m the grinch that lives inside your b-tch,
and i rob that p-ssy blind with a nine in my f-ckin d-ck!
it’s the one that was slangin’ dope before yo -ss ever seen the block!
so i’ma set it off in yo head and watch you mothaf-ckas stare at us, and just me mugg and talk,
it’s redrum where i’m from

(chorus)x2
it’s redrum where i’m from
wicked 3-0-3
and we w-e-s-t-s-i-d-e
it’s redrum where i’m from
wicked 3-0-3
and we-

i make you throw up
they knowin’ that i’m tore up when i show up,
with murder braids and shades that’s how i stay juggalo’d up like shown us,
deep runnin’ deep when i creep,
from the 303 to the d i run with killas that neva sleep,
rest in peace,
listen to the preacher when he preach, do when he preach, when he preach, see,
too bringin’ leaks see,
i’m the type lookin like 50 seperate eyes
out there tellin’ my mind,
you’ll never be on my side,
so goodbye,
click clack, pullin’ it back,
not in reference to the gatt i’m speakin’ about my tracks,
matter of fact,
i’m thinkin’ i oughta take my rap back,
it’s amb for life and you can put that on my axe tat, blast!

- amb lyrics

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