Made You Shit Your Pants

[Verse One: Copywrite] My next album's gonna come with lotion home skillet You can go fuck yourself if you don't feel it All I took is liquor, marijuana, six strippers in a sauna Pen and pad, now I got buzz quicker than Nirvana First, you non violent, now you in your verse wildin' Your only Criminal record is BDP's first album Cop purple haze and be the first to blaze When cops roll up everybody in my circle stays Fuck your baby mama on Mother's Day Dump my blunt ashes in that bitches purse when she turn her head the other way I'm foul, and don't give a shit what a motherfucker say Live it up till each minutes up we might not get another day In a truck, tinted up, yeah I'm spending but, this chick don't know that Till after she licks my bozack Get my Prozack, I'm like Tony Soprano The way I kill Big Pussy and my bitch don't know that [Hook: Copywrite] They shooting! Aw, made you shit your pants Better call your bitch, forget your mans Speaking of his, playboy she mine now Where my Weathermen at? Follow the dime cloud [Verse Two: Cage] PSK playing I'm saying neurotic shit Look to the clouds ask for the Weather and got it Whether I'm potted, I'm blotted out, absorb shit Cause only five percent really don't want to be corporate Most of ya’ll favorite artists made ya’ll slaves to garbage The influence they drop will rape the corpses Then it's off to the living for cannibalism, no kidding Cause rap is dying but they ain't make no ribbon I'm thinking Of the stress, and the air I breathe through Drugs don’t fund terrorists, SUV’s do! But ya’ll don’t want me to point it out I'm assuming Just remember to turn on and tune out, after you tune in