Smoke Rings

[Intro] You're right, I am a rotten bastard I admit it But I'll tell you something Even though I've got a lot of hate inside I've got some friends who ain't got hate inside They're filled with nothing but love Their only crime is growing their hair long Smoking a little grass and gettin' high Lookin' to the stars at night [Verse 1 - Dirty J] This is ridiculous, I have a sickness The grass is always greener, I said fuck it burn the picket fence Pestilence, eyes rolled back, pure masculine Moody little bitches I'm force-feeding you some estrogen Always keep you wet see, mermaid pussy Ever seen the movie kids, no legs don't push me I am making sculptures, you are using plaster Screaming while your dreaming mc's need a dream catcher You're not in my mind, you can't get the concept You're not on my level, you might need a dubstep Walking to the death, not walking with a cleft Lip, sharp as an arrow tip, I'm just so sick of it The smell is your upper lip And I'm jacking off a sparrow while I'm Crashing a pirate ship Slow as molasses, quick as a whip This beat's a filthy toilet, and I'm the fucking shit [Chorus] Rollin' up some grass on this beat, huh Nothin' on ya feet kinda sweet, huh Nothin' but love gettin' high up as the stars tonight [Verse 2 - Duddy B] My feet rock steady, my heart beat savvy My well ran dry, had no luck at the levy I'm lyrically a genius like Fergie and Jesus It's like a lightning bolt hit the tip of my penis The opposite of clean is, parallel with my style One sip away from runnin' round with my pants down Apparently I'm underground, sound breaking barriers Everybody take cover, danger area I got a feelin this beat's been to hell and back You can see the hole stickin straight through my radar cap Smoke rings billow out the window of my Cadillac This beat is the weed, and I'm the fucking cataract [Chorus] [Verse 3 - Del tha Funky Homosapien] Thieves are like rap rock, our mascot is sasquatch Rap for the have-nots, thieves get a padlock That, all a black ball of narc hall backlot Imma slap box with your ass while I snap shots Dunces that think outside the box and outfox proud cops As soon as the style drops, I'll leave your towel mopped I'm wild high, more arms than an octopus More buttons than I could push, to ignite the kush I manufacture the type of goods That keep the Africans bootlegging the new President New resident in the White House Like a night out with the lights out, provide your white route Parasites pounce and nibble on whatever they can fiddle with Which ain't much, cause they illiterate Hit ya like a dirty syringe from a personal friend Dirty shovin' cans, inserting inside of your skin [Chorus]