Tekst piosenki
[Scratching] Behold the fungus among us When dabblin with babblin I sends the battle scene to the apocalypse With this you grab my cock ya lips Be gettin sorta puckery Gettin the Brewin gassed to save that ass come stop the fuckery My style'll leave ya posin like a hitch hiker Make me wanna bitch microphone slap that shady ass, you bullshit nigga Your frontin said you didn't think too hot of me But once you feel the vocal side of me you'll say, "You got it, G" I finds the virgin ears I'm bustin raw pops Ya savin the drops, tryin to analyze my DNA, the verbal blueprint Even if you spend eternity you're baffled, nigga Havin not the slightest clue of how I'm swingin Bringin styles and flow that's nastier than urine See my shit is pure and ghetto embellished demonic funk and all that good shit A bad nigga when it comes to grabbin mics I love all women of the spectrum, fuck around I'm stabbin dykes And as I hurt em I convert em, when it comes to honey dip skits I'm leavin pussies sore as if you just delivered triplets, I flip shit When niggas say the brewin doesn't rhyme slick I yokes em in the Heimlich just to get the fuckin garbage out ya throat Mentally hardcore There be no guard for defendin against the shit I'm sendin Once you're comprehendin the ill funk aphrodisiac Givin the hoodies woodies as I'm fuckin up the head like brass knuckles givin noogies [Scratching, horns] I be's the hell fire word reaver Even Ripley can't believe I pull a stunt as if my name was Colt Seaver AKA The Fall Guy I never score, why? I'm hittin like Mattingly Get your fuckin Webster's dictionary Look under "fat" and you'll see my profile so smile You're grinnin like the Joker Cause I chose to smoke a mic and let you witness Get this through your thick skull: my shit is deadly I kicks my verse, niggas couldn't offer competition with a medley of their works I smirks when booty niggas try and grab this Survival of the fittest call me fuckin Tony Atlas, at the podium I pours my sodium in open flesh wounds as I mesh tunes with the vocal joint To become the focal point Brothas of funk soon discover I be +deeper+ than that nigga Larry Fishburne's +cover+ Hover on the L, sorta like a stealth in the night Then I makes the party jump even when it's full of white men [Scratching, horns] Check it out I represent enlightenment That have you squintin Hintin to rewards of the lord's charity received with clarity I heave skillaful syllable is the brick I stick in music mortar Makin ya think and raisin my floor to architect I comes to spark a tech Mind barrages massages carressed in peace The vocal acupuncture your stress released Like a hymen crack in my rhymin slacking never that Styles mysterious like under LL's hat The curious become the furious and play the jury Thus I'm found guilty labeling my sound filthy with the gutter in my utter A fat bitch goes, "Me me me" I cut her in pieces kill her sisters daughters and nieces Anything related to such a thought I crush I fought hard representin wicked Juggaknot minds I breaks it down to your English I makes you say, "I'm gooder" Verbs deeper than a hooker strictly bonin seven footers [Scratching, horns til fade]
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