| The following program has been brought to you by Rhymesayers Entertainment
|
| The following program contains explicit lyrics
|
| and we the producers stay defiantly behind the views expressed in the following
|
| program.
|
| All right, all you players and player haters, once again it’s time for the «Sep Sev"game show
|
| Recorded live right here in lovely snowy Minnesota
|
| this is the game where we make the average player a star.
|
| Now, if you’ll join me, let’s give it up for the host of the «Sep Sev"game show
|
| that’s right, here he is, Mr. Sep Sev…
|
| YO, YO, YO, YO, YO, YO, fuck the money, everyone on the floor drop
|
| I want all the food in the bag, and I ain’t tryin' to hear that soar talk
|
| Stole the dinner and freaked it to the freeway
|
| Flipped the screenplay, and made every love scene a three-way
|
| Sound track recorded here in Minnesnowda
|
| Tastes like ambrosia
|
| Disinfects pen holders
|
| Yo, let’s hold our breath and show your chest, if you’re proud of it
|
| And wake me back to safety if you see me falling out of it
|
| Under a full moon, the color? |
| of mind is a mucous?
|
| See your in the distance, the images riveting
|
| Given the way the clouds moved, it fucked with the lighting
|
| Grabbed me by the thoughts and pulled me tight like a kite string
|
| All right, let’s hear it for contestant number one
|
| What’s your name sir?
|
| Yo, MC famous, the killer
|
| Okay Mr. Anus Driller, you want to play the next round for a new Lexus with
|
| matching socks?
|
| Or air on the horny Miami based video
|
| or do you just want to take the phony looking fifty dollar bills and run with
|
| money?
|
| Yo, I want the sex man, just give chicks man, just, just let me touch 'em man!
|
| Now what If I spent, my whole day ?, on getting bent, and now I can’t afford my
|
| rent
|
| Do I grab a crowbar to your back door (Back door)
|
| or hit up Super America for the cash drawer? |
| (Fast forward)
|
| I should be honest, cause even my outer conscience,
|
| Knows the odds of blowing up are equal to people waking up from sleeping,
|
| Keeping me from retrieving kingdoms and bed time stories,
|
| Used to bore me with, positioned in the orbit of my imagination
|
| Small portion, even that much, flustered by the drug fell in lust with the rush
|
| Hush, maybe somewhere in it I became a cynic,
|
| but your sexy grin gets less attractive by the minute
|
| The planets in my head now rotate around the mind
|
| The substance, the bug shit, all in my circumference
|
| And I function
|
| Like I don’t give a fuck if you grasp it
|
| Resent the bitch that don’t and cast it under the masses;
|
| I asked, «Is that right?"I answered, «Does it matter?»
|
| I was glancing at how you fancy the passion, bastard
|
| How fast you scale the ladder to jump
|
| I’d rather just flunk than gather your junk
|
| (Yo dog, you should blast that punk)
|
| Alright, this next round our contestant is gonna have to slam
|
| a whole bottle of expensive firewater, chase it with a forty of malt liquor
|
| smoke a blunt, load a gun and sell records to 14 year olds all over the country
|
| And the first one of you genocidal fashion fantasy fucks to go platinum wins
|
| Wins what?!
|
| Mr. Announcer, tell them what they’ll win!
|
| Well, they’ll win respect, lot’s and lot’s of props!
|
| Pissed on the Asti Spumonte, sippin' kamekazi
|
| Shoulda called mommy when you saw me pull up in?
|
| The rest of you’re life’s a flashback when I jump out that hatchback
|
| Here’s your tape, give me my cash back
|
| I’m on tracks, and that’s that, in fact that’s all you need
|
| Either take some kind of lead, or fall to your knees and bleed
|
| How’s your scene?
|
| And how’s that rental running?
|
| And how’s the weed selling?
|
| And how’s the demo coming?
|
| Me and my participants, be the reason why you and you crew bit your lips
|
| Stick this in your mouth to cleanse it
|
| The fuckin' prop is too expensive
|
| Make’s me want to end it (Repent kid)
|
| My advice is from here on out you purchase yellow boxers
|
| That way when your bitch does your laundry, she won’t tell her moms about the
|
| stains created
|
| when I skated across that flat service you refer to as lyrical endowment
|
| That content, that conscience, run down to that? |