| Got a shitty grin, bitch show me them itty-bitty titties again
|
| We’re in Sin City, since when did we begin to get addicted to dope
|
| Diggity, bitch, you need to run and go get your friggidy-friends
|
| I’m looking at your bum-stickidy-bum hun
|
| The migidy mac’s, bigidy back
|
| Don’t act wigidy-wack, you can get the figidy-finger, the middle
|
| You little dizzy bitch, sit spiggidy spin
|
| Got a 6 o' clock craving, stop get Ciroc
|
| It’s about to be an unbelievable night
|
| I call it surreal, Sir Mix a Lot tape in
|
| Hit the spot, spot my next victim up
|
| Picky like I missed a spot shaving
|
| Came to sip vodka, shit yeah, that little chick is hot but if she got rabies
|
| I wouldn’t give the bitch a shot, I poke her in the rear
|
| But I bet if I lick her, she’ll try to chase me (Haha)
|
| What are you pit, rott, mixed oh, you just got fixed well shit then let’s
|
| lip-lock
|
| If not then trick piss off you snobby little pig snot nose
|
| You think you’re hot shit cause you’re in heat
|
| Well, bitch, if you’re solar
|
| Then I’m your polar opposite dog cause I’m colder than popsicle sticks,
|
| poppin' shit
|
| Talkin' it, walkin' it, spit rocks
|
| Then my sick thoughts are about to lick shots
|
| Like this shit’s hopping, and drip-dropping in chocolate-ly whip-topping
|
| So whether you’re Hip Hop, Slipknot, Big, Pac
|
| Kid Rock, Kris Kross, Rick Ross, you’ll dig this
|
| If not then kick rocks in flip flops
|
| And I produced the track
|
| So you don’t have to ask who it is when this shit knocks (TURN UP!)
|
| So bring clairvoyance to this bangin and I’m a keep on saying
|
| All the shit I should be hung for, and probably killed for saying
|
| And I probably will, but not until the day I pop a pill again
|
| Like chopping 'til I’m dropping, still if that don’t do the job of killing
|
| Shady, then the karma will, insane him
|
| I’m as brainy Mohammad until the Parkinson’s done eat away my brain
|
| And made me Robin Williams crazy
|
| Or I end up with dementia, but you rocking with a sadist
|
| So you can say this, but if the thought is entertaining
|
| I ain’t stopping to explain it
|
| Oh my God, for real man, not again I’m shaking
|
| But before I tie a rope around this nob
|
| If they don’t like it, got a knob they can slob on until it’s-
|
| Wait I just forgot what I was thinking…
|
| What’s it called again? |
| I’m blanking
|
| Something about the balls between my legs and I think I can feel it dangling,
|
| it’s throbbing and it’s veiny
|
| Wait I think I got it, okay bitch I got you, Robin Williams hanging
|
| Let’s Go hang in the lobby unless you came to slob me
|
| Come on kemosabe
|
| It’s past time, like your favorite hobby
|
| Cause if the way that I spit shit remains on my dick then she grab me by the
|
| nuts and tried to take my sausage as a hostage
|
| Ain’t it obvious? |
| Pretty much a no brainer, or should I say Cobainer?
|
| That she’s plain addicted to my dick like Lorena Bobbit
|
| Got a wean her off it, weiner off it like she took my fucking penis, chopped it,
|
| and stuck it up between her armpits
|
| And she begun to swing a crumpet knife and paint the carpet, at least that’s
|
| what her train of thought is
|
| Cause I came, saw, conquered, hit it, quit it, and made up a plane of bonkers
|
| And I always end up giving these bitches some complex
|
| And I don’t mean apartment
|
| So spread your feet apart
|
| And let me see you do some yoga stretches, splits
|
| Now grab this Cuisinart
|
| And make me breakfast, bitch, that’s a prerequisite
|
| And that’s just to get in this bedroom, bitch
|
| Walked up to that Ke$ha chick (what up?)
|
| Said my names Booger, wanna catch a flick?
|
| I’ll even let you pick, make her fetch a stick
|
| Bet you if you get this old dog these new tricks
|
| To get familiar with I’ll learn extra quick
|
| Kick a pregnant bitch, oops, I guess the shit
|
| Took an unexpected twist like the neck of the freaking exorcist
|
| Bitch, I said that this mask ain’t for hockey
|
| Hate Versace, Versace, I got Münchhausen by proxy
|
| I’m making you sick, don’t pretend you can’t hear me
|
| You deaf, girl, I said you was foxy
|
| I’ll tell a bitch like Bizarre
|
| Bitch, shut the fuck up and get in my car
|
| And suck my fucking dick while I take a shit
|
| And I think with my dick so come blow my mind |
| And it tastes like humble pie
|
| So swallow my pride, you’re lucky just to follow my ride
|
| If I let you run alongside the Humvee
|
| Unless you’re Nicki, grab you by the wrist, let’s skeet
|
| So what’s it gon' be? |
| Put that shit away Iggy
|
| You gon' blow that rape whistle on me
|
| (Scream!) I love it
|
| 'Fore I get lost with the gettin' off
|
| Like this is our exit, now let’s hit the highway and try not to get lost
|
| 'Till we get to Las Vegas
|
| (Party, do it 'till tomorrow)
|
| Vegas
|
| 'Till we get to Las Vegas
|
| (Party, do it 'till tomorrow)
|
| Vegas
|
| 'Till we get to Las Vegas
|
| (Party, do it 'till tomorrow)
|
| Vegas
|
| 'Till we get to Las Vegas
|
| (Party, do it 'till tomorrow)
|
| Vegas
|
| Whatever happens here, stays here
|
| So let’s go all the way dear
|
| Til we get to Las Vegas
|
| Whatever happens in my room, it stays in my room like movie night like cable
|
| Treat every women in my stable like flavors
|
| Looking like she kryptonite and I get weak after like 7 days
|
| In 7 nights in the days Inn it’s our Vegas
|
| We roll in circles in packs… we the lifesavers
|
| She got a boyfriend, I got a toy then
|
| I’ll bring her with me when I show up to her crib waving
|
| And I ain’t tryna be the nice neighbor
|
| I’m so Jay Electronic, I’m cut like I’m all out of razors
|
| And all I got is a gun left with a bayonet on it
|
| Next ho froze and it look like I walked in to a jewelry store
|
| With a about a million dollars with your mama
|
| And sat down n did the ALS challenge, haaaan
|
| I stole that adlib from French, Bad &Evil back at it again
|
| About to get my back tatted again
|
| About to get a pic of a backstabber with an axe in his hand
|
| Sitting on a bike in the sand
|
| If you ain’t been through nothing
|
| Then that shouldn’t mean nothing to you like lice on a gram
|
| If she current I keep her pussy purring like the pipes on a Lam
|
| Weed got her so chinky eyed
|
| Look like she been getting high on a flight to Japan
|
| I keep my jewelry on while I’m fucking
|
| Sound like I’m shaking up dice in a can
|
| Listen, though this ain’t Christmas I make you my ex miss
|
| If this is my passion
|
| I learn to give those who don’t appreciate my presence
|
| The gift of my absence
|
| I don’t know who you been listening to
|
| Got me fucked up like Pookie in the chicken coop
|
| Bitch, I don’t give a two shits
|
| Bitch, get the fuck out of my face
|
| To make a long story short, I don’t really gotta stand there
|
| And listen to you while you throw a silly tantrum
|
| Even though I have an affinity for witty banter
|
| Starting to feel like foulplay like Billy Laimbeer
|
| Hold up, she misunderstood me
|
| I said take parvour four
|
| Thought I said the wraith had four doors
|
| I knock a nigga face off
|
| Give him the bottom of the nine like a baseball scoreboard (whatever…)
|
| I leave the club with my tab still open
|
| Won’t even get a cab for you and your friend
|
| The only fear I have is of loathing
|
| And I won’t even kick in 'till we get to Las Vegas |