Artist: Trife Da God f/ Crunch Lo, Shawn Wigs
Album:  n/a
Song:   It's Theodore
Typed by: Cno Evil

[Intro: Trife Da God]
Whoo, TWAT Team on alert, with the nature, what up?
Trife Dies', come on, Killa Crunch, Theodore, what up?

[Chorus 2X: Shawn Wigs]
Aiyo, it's Theodore, kick in the door, wave in the four-four
Four five, here to keep rap alive
Yeah, I've been making moves and we here for the movement
Watch how much we change the game, and improve it

[Shawn Wigs]
Oh, lord, I'mma have to get some elbow grease
So if she say raw now, let me discrete
They hit the dark alone, Trife going in for the grind
Since a minute, you know we treat the dirt in the times
Yo, it's Theodore, we all about brains and heart
So if I chose to here an asshole to speak, I'd fart
Move out the way, cuz you talks more pork than pig
I'm a warrior, you know about Cyrus, can you dig?
And back down, my team got Soviet thoughts
Weapons of mass destruction, from Iraq corps
This ain't a Bush operation, I want money in Euro's
Your little dollars ain't worth nothing, keep acting like you heroes
Through my MC ASCAP, 1.5, no less amount
And dollars sure to get your whole chest blown out
Cooked up, place in the dirt, vising God's gates
Ashes of dust, leaving hoes in the dog face

[Chorus 2X]

[Crunch Lo]
I rip mics to shreds, I break bread, after the Chef
I rule with a black can and calling collect
Take a bet, dog is mine, I'm strictly head crack
Catch me right here, and twist trees on my back
Spit it, new get it, the haze, I stay committed
Ate your whole plate, I live it and then shitted
On your territory, I left a foul scent
I dust ya dudes off, dog popping cement
I lose mics to vest steam, it's Crunch Lo Beneen
Staten Island muscle team, out for the green
I spit for the goons and birds with balloons
On the V.I., up north, it's gangsta at all cost
Floss big, get grizz, it is what it is
Nigga something gotta give, nigga, Biz, what's the big figures?
Six zero's with a digit in front
I got my sawed off shotgun, my hand on the pump

[Chorus 2X]

[Trife Da God]
Aiyo, I bust early like the nine that's trustworthy
Was damn 15, now I'm up 30
Poppin' G4 early, you can't sell me
Cuz a fiend can't fuck with the fruit, he pays at caddy
Back with clean TV's, with high definition
Bank accounts splended with cream, they funds is insufficient
I'm into older women, ladies and shoes
Who like to wear nice things and rock Arabian doo's
You can catch me laying up with the baddest, like difference
If the diamonds on my wrist look like satellite dishes
And I'm picking up frequencies, none of ya'll can equal me
Trife Diesel's more than a rapper, I'm what the people need
So fall back or get wrapped like tall glasses
And we was rocked forty below, before chuckers
Smoking weed out of White Owl's, before dutches
If you ask what I think of these rappers, they all suckers