Lyrics Junkyard Dogs - JuJu of The Beatnuts, CZARFACE

Junkyard Dogs

Warning, niggas got no identity
I’m God though, I already know my enemy
Concentrate properly, control my energy
Look at you, you can’t even hold that Hennessy
Never gon' like you, we don’t have chemistry
Old number 7, only dope act Tennessee
Ain’t tryna feel you and I don’t have empathy
You friendly to a fault and got (hello) tendecies
Stay around masters, with Jews and recipes
Taught me it’s important not to taunt my legacy
Spin on all the jinns who distract and menace me
And if you scared to death, nigga, don’t be friends with me
You can catch feelings and act offensively
But you ain’t tryna kill nothin' with that intensity
I know your reaction’s just an act of jealousy
But you talkin' to God so retract that heresy
I realized the guy strapped over the mailbox looked kinda familiar.
So I asked him, «hey, do I know you?»
He said, «oh well, indeed you might.»
When I pull out the pen I’m a wolf out again
Time to son motherfuckers, school’s out again
The flow’s distinguished
But Rap Genius makes it look like I don’t speak English
Must I space out the words like Silver Surfer?
To prove that I got the skill to murder, kill a verse or
Sell out arenas like I’m backstabbing Gilbert
Nurture beasts like Buffalo Bill
He puts the lotion on the tracks
Seven continents and notions on his back
I attack the block as if I’m John Boy, Edward
You tryna get your grown man on like a tomboy
Rush your convoy, yeah, crush your convoy
I laugh at them like I’m smashed of a glass of Gin
Or 10, drunk watchin' Jim Gaffigan with the fattest win
And when they go and grab the pen I laugh again
And it feels like somebody stabbed in my abdomen
So pass the aspirin, half of these rappers are practicin'
They get detached limbs and thrown in scratch bins
Cause they has-beens
I shatter legions in arenas, blood splattered, screeches
So many lines you think I’m traffickin' African zebras
When the track bans put us in the fast lane
Y’all are sounding like athletics founded Bobby Knight’s last name
I smack lames to snack on brain, I’m that strange
I pull dimes like I’m tryna make exact change
What gives you the right to… My entire life gives me the right, mister,
look at my record.
Now I know why you wear a mask.
It’s to hide your swelled
head.
Who’s that guy?
Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were going back to that
Loud in person, I’ma shoot first like Kyrie Irving
These silly raps getting no claps like Miley twerkin'
Tight verses getting your blood, no hypodermic
I’m highly worshipped, puttin' clowns back inside the circus
Rap god, rocking Jordans in a wife beater
Might turn the beat, the beat down for sounding like Tina
They soundin' like divas with dyke features
I’m bed-rest ill, they barely a slight fever
Wordplay wizard, my mic is Harry Potter’s wand
Czarface nominated at the Comicon, drop bombs
Deliver it hot like it’s Papa John’s poppin' dons
Burnin' blue flowers with Dr. Octagon
Phenomenon, John Travolta with the smoker
I’m straight like five sequence cards in poker
No sir, I am not a poser
My motto is bread over beef, you can call it Simosa
Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were going back to that.
The reaper is saying
the Devil gon' come after me.
Well, I’m gonna kick his butt