I'm kind of a Dahmer, I'm grinding Now rappers are lining up jackers, I'm climbing up ladders I buy enough clappers to retire you factors, fire at drama
remains [ CHORUS: The Holmes Brothers ] I remember When we used to play shoot-em-up, bang-bang I remember When we used to play shoot-em-up, bang-bang
'em the entire time, why am I up? Cause tribulations I have triumphed bitch I'm fired up So it's time for me to slit your fucking lighter, light the sky up
puttin' hands on 'em One hitter, quitter, bob & weavin', karate stance on 'em Dance on 'em, ran on 'em, and land on 'em Put my brand on 'em, stand on 'em
and started squezzin' the trigga' *8 gunshots* (bla! bla! bla! bla!) And duckin' at 'em, I'm bustin' at 'em, laughin' at 'em, trynna splat 'em, cussin at 'em
Call me a faggot 'cuz I hate a pussy Man the fuck up sissy g's pull your car and just freeze up Put your hoes down, shady ease up Man, chill, nah I can
, I might die soon the F.B.I. might be tryin to pull my files soon I might be walking, blindfold into a typhoon I might be seeing rockets light up the
the mic, so let me entertain you My lyrical content contains subject matter That sucks up all these fucked up young kids At an alarmin' rate, common denominate Add it up
I react slow, in this fast world Slow n-ggas, fast girls Hoes give up ass while these ho n-ggas hold triggers Blast on 'em Hold up that old checker flag for 'em
, when it slides up and down the scale You would think my beats are graduate from Harvard or Yale Strappin' other beats five on his way to the top Havin' radio stations tune 'em up
I make clowns like you bow down like Ice Cube Women, I make 'em feel like they gave birth to God Grip 'em by their pigtails, make 'em slurp the rod Catch
on the head girl, duck duck goose You shoulda got the message that I chuck up deuce Break 'em off and leave it, you seen my fucked up tooth It's fuck
'em up, cock 'em back, let 'em go and knock 'em off Cut off all his cake, rocks, and eggs, this nigga block 'em off It's B U N for U G K, straight up
shallow coffins [Mad Child] Mad Child steppin on the scene like Batman Gold wings comin out my supreme backpack I'm old school, hardcore like Black Flag Chasin rappers down, I chomp 'em up
you know how we do, come on Wave ya hand in the air like this Mami, wave ya hands in the air like this Put 'em up if you trying to get rich Put 'em up
[Foreign content] Yeah, yeah, a special guest appearance From the slums, yo, aiyo I examine your diameter, third eye, light the camera up Be careful
potions that I've developed To make the body swell up like venom Once I'm in 'em, then I skin 'em and skull 'em After that I call 'em, back from the
who crafted ecclesiastics Telepathics, communicate by telegraphics Bomb and corrupt Catholics Tie 'em to the stake like Joan of Arc then burn 'em to ashes