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Artist: Dom Pachino
Album:  1st Blood
Song:   Paint Pictures
Typed by: Cno Evil

[Intro: Dom Pachino]
Yeah, watch out...

[Dom Pachino]
I'm wrapped like a ball of fire, my raps like a bolt of lightning
Strike with the force of light, some think it might be frightening
Streets had a nigga fighting, jail like it was a titan
Bail was like a half of mill, for real
General's back, you know the drill, adapt like I'm holding steel
Soul patched, road craps and rats get killed
From the straps I weld, this is serious shit
Not just a story to tell, it's Dom P, nigga
The definition of a true M.C.
G-Nigga, opposite of a wannabe nigga
Fake Killa Bee niggas, you never were affiliated
And you never gon' be, nigga
I am the bottom line of it, the last of the grit
You best believe I stay on that militant shit
Hope you get back on it, black boots and war garments
Thoughts in my mind, so sick, I now spit vomit
Disgusted, from the way I see the shit going
They try to blackball me, not knowing I'm knowing
But everyday my fanbase keep growing
How does it feel to see your little man blowing
Knowing you didn't support him, raps like a bloodsport
You suck a nigga dry, just a thought
I'm glad I play to win, can it be that
It was all so simple then?

[Chorus 2X: Dom Pachino]
I paint pictures like an artist, it's on when the Gods speak, you hear me?
I paint pictures like an artist, it's on when the Gods speak, you feel me?

[Dom Pachino]
I paint pictures so vivid, speak my mind to the limit
Cross the line of scrimmage, you feel my nine and hemorage
Thought you had some leverage, sorry to bust your bubble
But clues, killa, bring us all down to Earth
Make you see a gift with the curse, see my gun jerk
And my fancy fistwork, whoo, I'm natural at
Putting the cap in you, or giving a slap to you
From a black pistol, now that's the actual fact
Trust me, I won't miss you, we'll make funeral arrangements
It's not a big issue, the grab the shovel and
Dig you a hole, to bury your soul
The you sold to the devil when the weather was cold
They say the weak shall fold under pressure
I say, my pipes will explode if you holding my treasure
Two wrongs don't make a write, I tell you one thing, duke
It sure makes me feel better

[Chorus 2X]

[Dom Pachino]
I got pride like Fidel, ground and pound your face off
Throw knees like Vandelid, don't think you could handle me
I fuck bitches silly like, Jennifer Tilly
Rep Stapleton and Park Hill until the whole world feel me
And my brethren, Dom P, the veteran
Trying to get ahead again, I'm pushing through, excuse me
Oh, they gon' let me in, I got a hunger for the mic
My appetite strike like I ain't eat since then
Feel my aura, me and the mic been together
Forever, like Luke and Laura
I smack the Baby Phat off you cats like Kimora
My niggas act like animals, I talk to them like Ace Ventura
Still the Lyrical Pioneer explorer, Killarmy soldier
Plus a great performer
Can you smell that Napalm, nigga? We about to bomb ya

[Chorus 2X]