| I woke up in the hospital
|
| Catheter in my dick, suckin' on a Popsicle
|
| They say you ran over officers, in a 5.0
|
| Bumpin' papa roach
|
| I said, «Where's my clothes?»
|
| Half swoll with a Tahoe nose
|
| My brain straight froze
|
| So cold I’m ice skatin' on hoes
|
| Got to leave this town
|
| (Dirt nasty)
|
| And change my name, yeah
|
| (Dirt nasty)
|
| My future’s lookin' dim
|
| (Dirt, Dirt nasty)
|
| Like it’ll never, never be the same
|
| I woke up in the back of the cop car
|
| With my dick lookin' redder than a lobster
|
| Smellin' like tuna tar, tar
|
| All you can eat shrimp dick and pasta
|
| I don’t bother my father
|
| I don’t know where he lives, I think Reno Nevada
|
| He addicted to vodka and he the same reason
|
| I ain’t talked to my daughter
|
| Got to leave this town
|
| (Dirt nasty)
|
| And change my name, yeah
|
| (Dirt nasty)
|
| My future’s lookin' dim
|
| (Dirt, dirtiest rapper alive)
|
| Like it’ll never, never be the same
|
| This Dirt Nasty tryin' to leave this
|
| This ghetto streets and the poverty
|
| And the livelihood stricken
|
| From the white community, call it now
|
| I woke up in Attica, gettin' my back rubbed
|
| By a black panther from Africa
|
| He looked like Shaft identical
|
| And he thought I looked like Lars from Metallica
|
| Shit was magical
|
| Afterwards we shared a Marlboro romantically
|
| Then I got released
|
| Dick picked me up in a black caprice
|
| Got to leave this town
|
| And change my name, yeah
|
| My future’s lookin' dim
|
| Like it’ll never, never be the same
|
| Got to leave this town
|
| And change my name, yeah
|
| My future’s lookin' dim
|
| Like it’ll never, never be the same
|
| All these other prophets
|
| These are the chosen few
|
| These are the selected youth
|
| These are the ones that shine upon
|
| Thine meridian with a 4th level of Gondor
|
| I am a metaphysical visionary
|
| Third chapter dimensions
|
| Castle of corgi, I see darkness
|
| Intertwine my mind upon thy 9 caliber
|
| Russian roulette stamina
|
| Tylenol flip the fast track of
|
| The anomaly that’s preposterous
|
| (Stop)
|
| My words are better verbs towards the
|
| (Stop, stop)
|
| Shut the fuck up man, what’s wrong with you?
|
| Nothin' man, you know? |
| I been doin' good
|
| Quit smokin' weed, y’know
|
| I’ve been doin' some yoga, little pilates
|
| Just gettin' more in tune with myself
|
| You know, gettin' in touch with mind
|
| Spirit, and body
|
| You sound like a little bitch
|
| Take a hit of this
|
| And kick that old Dirt Nasty shit
|
| About gettin' yo dick sucked |