Uh uh uh uh X a few times
Push it back kid
Step the fuck back, kill the drama
I be rippin' niggas like my name was Jeff Dahmer
I'm the mad bomber, droppin dead babies off the roofs
Splat flat upon the street, crazy hard like a beat
With a loop and a rhyme I design to cripple punks
Paraplegic, I flip strategic with the funk
I process by stress, then react on impact
Flip the fuckin bacon, light the blunt that I pack
With pot, got all types: domestic and exotic
Big Words the motherfuckin' pimp of narcotics
The drug head, thug pulls the plug on ya brain
Then activates the shit that hits like a freight train
So many rappers hate me cause I'm a sick fuck, dude
I'll blow up a jew up, and that's tough luck
So let me kick back and smoke my hash
And all the non-believers you can eat my ass
Up ya fuckin' nose with the motherfuckin' hose
Big Words, you motherfuckin' nerds like Pete Rose
I make mad hits, just like a cannabis fix... I flow
"Tick-tock," just like a bomb about to blow off
Body parts and limbs, I lick shots & blood clots
That so-called friends, but just (?) of played-out plots
Behind my back they're talking trash
Cause I cash large cheques, and they get vexed
When I flex the ILL complex compulsive
Dead celebrities rap repulsive...
And so the dead-up result is...
They gettin' jealous, cause I got the cash
But all the backstabbers you can eat my ass
Phat like a gat or like a gun... nigga run
Yo my brain's like an Uzi, and my Uzi weighs a ton
Twist your fist around the mic if you wanna...
But if you step to me you're goin' out like Tawana
Smeared with feces, I increased the deceased
The body count peaks, when you're dealing with the dead freak
I think by now they know I keep the talk business
The snakes are going out the grass with the quickness
Talkin' crazy shit like I should change my style
But fuck that bullshit, I plan to stay foul
I know I'm gonna have the last laugh
So all you fuckin' fakes you can eat my ass
Push it back kid
Step the fuck back, kill the drama
I be rippin' niggas like my name was Jeff Dahmer
I'm the mad bomber, droppin dead babies off the roofs
Splat flat upon the street, crazy hard like a beat
With a loop and a rhyme I design to cripple punks
Paraplegic, I flip strategic with the funk
I process by stress, then react on impact
Flip the fuckin bacon, light the blunt that I pack
With pot, got all types: domestic and exotic
Big Words the motherfuckin' pimp of narcotics
The drug head, thug pulls the plug on ya brain
Then activates the shit that hits like a freight train
So many rappers hate me cause I'm a sick fuck, dude
I'll blow up a jew up, and that's tough luck
So let me kick back and smoke my hash
And all the non-believers you can eat my ass
Up ya fuckin' nose with the motherfuckin' hose
Big Words, you motherfuckin' nerds like Pete Rose
I make mad hits, just like a cannabis fix... I flow
"Tick-tock," just like a bomb about to blow off
Body parts and limbs, I lick shots & blood clots
That so-called friends, but just (?) of played-out plots
Behind my back they're talking trash
Cause I cash large cheques, and they get vexed
When I flex the ILL complex compulsive
Dead celebrities rap repulsive...
And so the dead-up result is...
They gettin' jealous, cause I got the cash
But all the backstabbers you can eat my ass
Phat like a gat or like a gun... nigga run
Yo my brain's like an Uzi, and my Uzi weighs a ton
Twist your fist around the mic if you wanna...
But if you step to me you're goin' out like Tawana
Smeared with feces, I increased the deceased
The body count peaks, when you're dealing with the dead freak
I think by now they know I keep the talk business
The snakes are going out the grass with the quickness
Talkin' crazy shit like I should change my style
But fuck that bullshit, I plan to stay foul
I know I'm gonna have the last laugh
So all you fuckin' fakes you can eat my ass
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!