| I got shot with a buck shot, shot me down
|
| But you know you can’t paint a frown on a clown
|
| Sewer gutter blood runs through my system
|
| Death stopped by but I must have just missed him
|
| Am I in a southwest street gang?
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| Do I bang, do I slang, do I let my motherfuckin' nuts hang?
|
| But do you care
|
| I got stabbed in the eye and you wadn’t no where
|
| And what about the time I got fucked
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| When I got shot in the throat… fuckin' sucked
|
| But you news wouldn’t know me
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| You could give a fuck less never the less unless
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| Something happened in your suburbs
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| I’m a cut your daddy’s neck, you little fuckin' nerd
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| I don’t give a fuck where you’re from boy
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| So don’t tell me cuz I don’t give a fuck
|
| It’s all about what’s going on in your head
|
| Do or don’t you care about the seventeen dead
|
| Seventeen dead, it don’t bother you
|
| Do or don’t you care about the seventeen dead
|
| Seventeen dead, it don’t bother you
|
| You could give a fuck less about the seventeen dead
|
| The seventeenth boyfriend lost his erection
|
| I woke up next to a dead body
|
| Roll it out the way and jump out of bed
|
| Strap on my kicks and step out my room
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| Cuz somehow there’s another stiff in the bathroom
|
| Dead fucks all over the grass
|
| I’m a kick somebody in they dead ass
|
| Quick to make a left on Jefferson
|
| And I noticed there’s another stiff riding shotgun
|
| Am I just seeing things? |
| No.
|
| Is your mother a soggy ho?
|
| I like to drink Faygo, out from the scotties
|
| But then one out of one of my homeboys turned into dead bodies
|
| But I’m straight with that
|
| Just don’t be leaving your guts in my car n' shit
|
| Wait a minute, wait, get your head on straight
|
| I drop seventeen tears from eyes every fucking day
|
| I gotta wonder if they do
|
| Should I burn the rebel flag or the red white and blue too
|
| I can’t do much, but they can
|
| But those motherfuckers gotta death wish, man
|
| I’m gonna swim in they blood shed
|
| Justi-justify the seventeen dead
|
| Seventeen dead, it don’t bother you
|
| Do or don’t you care about the seventeen dead
|
| Seventeen dead, it don’t bother you
|
| You could give a fuck less about the seventeen dead
|
| The seventeenth boyfriend lost his erection
|
| Yeah, dead bodies man
|
| They ain’t so bad
|
| I mean they’re all over in the
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| Streets n shit ya know
|
| But they don’t be fuckin' with you
|
| They just lay there dead as shit
|
| I mean they tasted kinda straight
|
| With a little mustard, man
|
| Yeah, much worse
|
| Seventeen dead bodies hanging from a telephone wire
|
| All seventeen on fire
|
| Lightening up the sky with the smell of death
|
| Rich bigot fucker, take a deep breath
|
| Look at you makes me go baddy
|
| Motherfucker don’t be nothing like your daddy
|
| Cuz he’s nothing but a redneck hoe
|
| Him and his kind created this ghetto
|
| They can deal with they own creation
|
| Move out farther, suburb vacation
|
| But it don’t work like that
|
| Knock at your door and it’s me running slug bat
|
| I’m a stick it to your fuckin' nugget
|
| About seventeen times and you’re gonna love it motherfucker
|
| Drive down my street
|
| And stare at the folks who can’t make end’s meat
|
| You don’t know now but that’s the plan
|
| Most people in Hell were rich when they died, man
|
| Take that to your golden bed
|
| Cuz I’m a cut your ass up for the seventeen dead
|
| Seventeen dead, it don’t bother you
|
| Do or don’t you care about the seventeen dead
|
| Seventeen dead, it don’t bother you
|
| You could give a fuck less about the seventeen dead
|
| The seventeenth boyfriend lost his erection
|
| Well, ya know Violent J’s kinda wicked
|
| If there’s a booger in my nose I’m a pick it
|
| And flick it in your eye like you ain’t jack
|
| And stomp my boots on your nutsac
|
| Well, I’m Shaggy and I’m in the house
|
| You don’t think so, I’ll put a brick in your mouth
|
| Can’t nobody flex on a nutty clown
|
| I got boys down river straight hick town
|
| Well, ya know I’m coming straight from the trailor park
|
| That’s me out front working on the Skylark
|
| I’m waiting on a check, I don’t cut the grass
|
| And my woman’s got babies falling all out her ass
|
| I’ll be running with the carnival until I’m eighty
|
| And tonight I’m going out with the fat lady
|
| I strip the bitch down to the nitty gritty
|
| But I ain’t saying shit about a wooden titty |