[Verse 1] Merkules
Two handfuls of shrooms and I'm lookin for trouble
I stomp down on instrumentals till I'm pullin a muscle
I drop acid until anything I look at is doubled
A rabid dog yappin jaws yeah I should get a muzzle (but fuck it)
Ya'll done had it comin, I'm runnin through the forest
Hold a Glock at Goldie Locks I'll fuckin snuff 'em for his porridge
Or go get your mother and poke a hole in a rubber
You'll get to meet your little brother when you come home for supper
Then I get at Aspect 'n tell him we need the c-saw
There's weed between the keys on his beringer keyboard
Body bags, they come equipped with a zipper
I'm writin names out in blood till they gettin the picture
I'll meet your sister then and trick her into lickin my shitter
Tippin the ricter, you probly wife a chick who's a stripper
You bozo's with no flow, don't know lyrics
All you do is make love songs and no hoes hear it, pussy
[Verse 2] Young Aspect
God body, I pray to God like I'm John Gotti
On dead bodies, I got your girl in a thong probly
I'm not sober I'm holdin this chainsaw
I'm close to insane, ya'll better know me by name (yeah)
I lace weed, smoke it and rake leaves
I got a bag of pills, tell your bitch to take 3
I don't give a fuck bitch, you can lick my nut sack
I'm rockin a dookie chain, reppin a fuckin hub cap
My brain is ill cause it fell and hit the floor
And when I was a little boy just bein happy was a chore
I got satan on my shoulder shootin heroin
I'm fuckin prostitutes on the 3rd floor of the Sheraton
I met a bitch named Cassie, she's a fatty
And last week I fucked her in the back seat of a taxi
This is high on cocaine with a crow bar
This is no joke I'm dope and I go hard
Two handfuls of shrooms and I'm lookin for trouble
I stomp down on instrumentals till I'm pullin a muscle
I drop acid until anything I look at is doubled
A rabid dog yappin jaws yeah I should get a muzzle (but fuck it)
Ya'll done had it comin, I'm runnin through the forest
Hold a Glock at Goldie Locks I'll fuckin snuff 'em for his porridge
Or go get your mother and poke a hole in a rubber
You'll get to meet your little brother when you come home for supper
Then I get at Aspect 'n tell him we need the c-saw
There's weed between the keys on his beringer keyboard
Body bags, they come equipped with a zipper
I'm writin names out in blood till they gettin the picture
I'll meet your sister then and trick her into lickin my shitter
Tippin the ricter, you probly wife a chick who's a stripper
You bozo's with no flow, don't know lyrics
All you do is make love songs and no hoes hear it, pussy
[Verse 2] Young Aspect
God body, I pray to God like I'm John Gotti
On dead bodies, I got your girl in a thong probly
I'm not sober I'm holdin this chainsaw
I'm close to insane, ya'll better know me by name (yeah)
I lace weed, smoke it and rake leaves
I got a bag of pills, tell your bitch to take 3
I don't give a fuck bitch, you can lick my nut sack
I'm rockin a dookie chain, reppin a fuckin hub cap
My brain is ill cause it fell and hit the floor
And when I was a little boy just bein happy was a chore
I got satan on my shoulder shootin heroin
I'm fuckin prostitutes on the 3rd floor of the Sheraton
I met a bitch named Cassie, she's a fatty
And last week I fucked her in the back seat of a taxi
This is high on cocaine with a crow bar
This is no joke I'm dope and I go hard
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