Lyrics Crazy (Perfectly Content) - Mac Lethal

Crazy (Perfectly Content)

Seven on the beat
Kansas City, motherfuckface (word)
See I don’t wear those trendy-ass dunks anymore, or them dumb-ass Bathing Ape
hoodies
You know what, man?
This is not an independent rap beat, can you tell?
Listen to that bass.
(Rhymesayers entertainment)
It’s gonna flip your car over
What I want you to do is, uh-
Tell your grandmother to stop bitching, load your bong up, take a fat-ass hit
right now
Good evening, I’ve arrived to clean your pill drawer out
And talk to birds like Kilgore Trout
I shout out loud
I think that most these rappers out are probably into guys actually
Cause they want five mics, I’d rather have five Mallories
When I write unraveled violent shades of quite contagious psycho babble
Hit me with a big steel shovel
Dig me in the white stone gravel
At the live show frazzled
Provoke the ravenous mischief the counter rhythms are rowdy
But fuck these rappers, they’re bitches
Cops come with their sirens like 'wee-oo, wee-oo'
I’m too illegal with the ink pen
Push or click over like somebody’s trying to beep in
Everyday is Saturday so baby hit the snooze button, let’s sleep in
I say I’m selfish but they never listen
So I took 'em Christmas shopping and I bought myself a television
Better find the troll up hold up got a clever line to pull up
Johnny Rotten popped an Oxycontin, nevermind the bullocks, oh!
Live up in your city I’m about to steal the show
These people disagree but I don’t listen to 'em though
I’ll never do a stupid dance up in my video
I’m perfectly content with being crazy
I received an e-mail from the president of a Nigerian bank
It said he had a hundred thousand dollars for me (Thanks!)
I can now invent my engine for the hard shell truth served
In the barbell-brute version of Marcel Proust words in a capsule
Attacking the vocabulary kingdom, see not everybody’s cool
I got the swagger of a penguin
What you’re seein is a dirty splash of Kansas City Eurotrash
Your surly-ass uncle, counting dirty cash
Cops pull me over with their sirens like 'wee-oo, wee-oo'
I’m driving drunk like it’s the weekend
Boy I gives a fuck, me and the homie Al Swearengen chill, brandy I’ll swill,
taking synthetic heroin pills
I lo-lo-love the taste of hops and malted barley and beer
It makes me wanna bite who’s on stage like Carlos Mencia
But I don’t steal, I’ve had a charming career
So bring your armor and gear
Because the dope style harbingers here
Oh!
Buy me a drink I’ve got some craziness to kill
People spreading rumors, they ain’t saying shit for real
Kansas City motherfucker, full of dangerous skill
I’m perfectly content with being crazy (Hell yeah)