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marked 4 death - tareebi the terrible lyrics

you’re officially dead, from now on you are now marked for death
don’t let me split you in the head, from now on you are now marked for death (you a dead man)
you’re officially dead, from now on you are now marked for death
(marked for death lil n*gga!)
i’m a fill you up wit lead, from now on you are now marked for death
(you a dead man)

i put some figures on ya head
i hold the double barrel shotty right up to ya chest
ima blow off all ya fingers n ya neck, shoot off all ya toes while i chase you ’til ya death
the sea floor gon’ be ya newly wed, ima tie you to some bricks and push you right off of the edge (hehe)
and to whom were gonna miss
’cause we started off as friends but now you’re acting like a b*tch
what a pest i could swing it with the best, i’m the beast from the east don’t let me clip you in the head
i bet a mil you won’t survive another set, say my name like candy man consider me the king of death
yeahhhh go and tell ya buddy jeff, i can meet him in the ring we can settle differences
this ain’t like back in 2010 i’m comin at you now because i over looked it then

listen i’m a villain ressurected, you will now suffer an excruciating death wish
i’m not that n*gga you should try and mess with i’ll have you coughing up ya lungs like you got asbestos
ah f*ck these mother f*ckers i ain’t phased! im a take a semi*automatic, squeeze it in their face
you f*ck around and catch another live grenade, i’ll leave you like the duppy he’s already in his grave (in the grave lil n*gga!)

always workin at the desk, im red pilled and based ya’ll are blue pilled at best
haha, it’s gettin’ gruesome and grotesque, better save ya face * i blow it right off in the end
i don’t care if you marry that waitress, what you did to my relationship was f*cking tasteless
now ya duckin’ now ya heart is racing i’m running laps around you cause i won’t address this sh*t again b*tch listen

you’re officially dead, from now on you are now marked for death (marked for death lil n*gga!)
don’t let me split you in the head, from now on you are now marked for death (you a dead man)
you’re officially dead, from now on you are now marked for death
(marked for death lil n*gga!)
i’m a fill you up wit lead, from now on you are now marked for death
(you a dead man)
you know i dont understand why there’s so much hate for me
everybody tryna gang up on me, yall p*ssed off i took some guy’s girl
yall ain’t even know the guy ’til he had problems with me
yeah i f*cked his b*tch so what? what the f*ck yall gonna do about it? (come at me bro) (f*ck yall n*ggas) (b*tches)
ain’t n0body watchin’ my back (better try somethin’)
it’s just me, with my back to the wall * all yall f*ckers fitna fall

mind your own f*ckin business, im still in the hood still deep upin them trenches (yeahhh) yall wanted my attention but when i take a look yall still on them benches! (marked for death)
i’m still busy gettin’ hood rich! yall want the fame so bad and still you didn’t get sh*t…
i came through by surprise, years later * still copped some rounds for the guys…

in ya eyes, that waitress is the real prize, but we got unresolved issues you don’t realize
i just want to be diplomatic… before i’m forced to run up on you wit the automatic…
avtomat kalashnikov, i empty out a whole clip and got the makarov
you guys are so full of sh*t that’ll back you off, remember that i know where you live, and got camouflage, heh

i’m drinking henny wit my enemies, i took the term literally and now you can’t get rid of me…hah
money i got plenty, still left the club wit a b*tch rockin’ fendi
murder is my modus operandi, i been to h*ll and back there’s not a place to you fitna send me… pretty soon imma be pushin’ the bentley, ima push the rang rover out ya range of spending
or the porsche gt, still ain’t no way you mother f*ckers fitna see me
or be me i flip keys like the grand prix i’m hustlin’ until the feds free my n*gga kp
henny shot after shot after shot, mans still got bare bottles to pop
mans still got bare models to rock, mans still got bare albums to drop
ain’t no way that im fitna stop, can’t n0body say he ain’t make it hot
i’m makin it rain til yall tastin the drops i’m still rob*tha*bank$ still evading the cops hold up yall are haters, i was ballin’ on these waiters, i gave ya girl a tip before i tell her see ya later
now tell me how many shots what’s his face buy you? never forget, i’ll bulldoze and fry you

- tareebi the terrible lyrics

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