My puglistic linguistic rapping
Is a mixture of slug 'em in
Slug 'em in
Plug 'em in plug 'em in
Come to spread it
The world exclusive
Check it
From the underground producers
Turn your face stone like Medusa
Slap dick on a wicked pitch
Sons
Those who burn hurt turn nuns
I be jumpin' through the flame
With the name B.O.B.B.Y.
Makin' a hobby
Smoke the honey dip got my throat groggy
You doo-doo brain dirtbag derelict dumbfuck
What the fuck is wrong with you dickhead?
Numb-nuts
Just because you made a song or two
What's the balance due on your royalties?
Record companies spoil me
As the, hot oil me
Fuck that savage back up
Wu-Tang step inside the club
Niggas might act up
One potato
Smack you like the crossfader
Rap data, the elevators
Escape the projects, livin' inside the skyscraper
Fuck that I'm takin' back the forty acres
Nature
(Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, Bobby)
(Huh)
Yo, my Eve called 1-Adam-12, I got arrested
At first she protested
But only the seventh son of, had the power
Before the Midori Sour with red cherries
Hereditary trait, seeking salvation like the Cranberries
Wrote Murder with Angela Lansbury often
Til my biological clock stops and my casket falls
We sell tix <Celtics> like Boston basketball
See-arson was askin' y'all
Is Ras Kass the last to fall victim for wearin' no mask at all?
No gimmicks, just me bein' me
But you ain't bendin' or offendin' me
Cause anyways Hennessy used to be a better friend to me
But I had to stop drinkin' so many pints (Why?)
Cause the tendency to forget
It ain't baseball, America's favorite national pastime is white
Supremacy
Never seen a nigga granted clemency
My metaphors is meta-five
My styles go up in your, little boy, you get fucked, like pedophiles
When it's all said and done I'ma retire to an island in the Caymans