| No questions for you too ask, no gats for you to blast
|
| No money, weed, no cash
|
| It’s time to get in that ass
|
| Mr. Dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie
|
| Don’t be acting like you don’t see me
|
| Believe me man you don’t know me
|
| I was the first to put it down
|
| Reppin' with Twiztid and the clowns kicking the gangsta sounds
|
| Strictly keep it underground
|
| Lotus in the family, you now how we do
|
| Coming for ours and won’t hesitate to ride on you
|
| Record sales don’t make you bulletproof
|
| Big time, and we both know you don’t be doing that shit that’s in your rhymes
|
| You ain’t a G like me, you ain’t the thug I be
|
| You watered down, like the punks I see on MTV
|
| Where you’re motherfucking trees, always asking for smoke
|
| Ain’t it a bitch, everybody a G when wearing Loc’s
|
| That’s a figure of speech, and I be sick in the heat
|
| Whoever think he the shit, trying to claim my territory
|
| I’m a motherfucking G with heaters loaded and cocked
|
| You’s a small time pee-on, braggin of running rocks
|
| Bitch break yourself, for everything and then some
|
| Hold the mic to my dick, so you can hear me when I cum
|
| No questions for you too ask, no gats for you to blast
|
| No money, weed, no cash
|
| It’s time to get in that ass
|
| Mr. Dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie
|
| Don’t be acting like you don’t see me
|
| Believe me man you don’t know me
|
| Never ever was I a bitch hoe,
|
| You can put that on my ten-fold
|
| Ma pop Grundy and them know I sicko
|
| Baby boy got banana clips for his chopper
|
| Known to bring drama somethin' proper
|
| Check nuts
|
| Colton Grundy got handles, I got the J
|
| So when I’m spiting from the big oh line, nuts' in your face
|
| Dead homie on a ho-port, smoking a Newport
|
| Spiting at the bitches, and bumping that new Too Short
|
| Life is nothing I can even they to relate to, for real though
|
| Being dead is serious, it change you
|
| All I got left in this world, is my music to play
|
| So you correct if you thinkin', that I’m a do my thang
|
| And all the thugs that with me, throw your shit in the air
|
| And wave those motherfuckers side to side
|
| Like you don’t care
|
| And if you feeling like I’m feeling, then it’s plainy clear
|
| 'Cause it’s a whole bunch of dead folk chilling in here
|
| No questions for you too ask, no gats for you to blast
|
| No money, weed, no cash
|
| It’s time to get in that ass
|
| Mr. Dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie
|
| Don’t be acting like you don’t see me
|
| Believe me man you don’t know me
|
| It’s me and Blaze, drunk driving in an 87 Cutlass
|
| Taking turns at the wheel while the other claps motherfuckers
|
| You’re chick, I’m dicking that
|
| Wicked shit, I’m kicking that
|
| I’m hitting with the quickness, life’s stinking, where the chickens at?
|
| You made a wrong turn coming down my block
|
| I’ll stop your car like I need help, and crack your head with a rock
|
| Uh, Colton Grundy the only homie I got,
|
| Mr. Dead Folx sparking at the burial spot
|
| We about to ride on the world, leave it deserted like Marz
|
| Get your wig spilt, by 40 juggalo rap stars
|
| A little kid asked me if I ever killed anybody (yes)
|
| I told 'em that I did and was warm and bloody
|
| I’m Violent J, I’ll be around until my dieng day
|
| On tour smoking bud, and eating Flying J
|
| Look me up under 'Juggla' and you’ll find my name
|
| And if you don’t, then you’re dictionary’s lame motherfucka!
|
| No questions for you too ask, no gats for you to blast
|
| No money, weed, no cash
|
| It’s time to get in that ass
|
| Mr. Dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie
|
| Don’t be acting like you don’t see me
|
| Believe me man you don’t know me
|
| Mr Dead Folx
|
| Believe me man you don’t know me |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Mr. Deadfolx , by - Blaze Ya Dead Homie. Song from the album Colton Grundy, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп