| Yo, I changed my habitat to palm trees from tabernac
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| Now I’m pullin' playboy bunnies just like a rabbit trap
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| White boy, looking like an angry tatted cabbage patch
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| That flies economy, but Lola’s got a Gucci travelbag!
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| Lone ranger, back on the saddle with satin saddlebags
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| And two chrome platinum battleaxe’s that cattle brand
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| I don’t battlerap as I shadowcast
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| Attack a pack of cackling jackals to watch them scatter fast!
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| I got a new girl, who knows how long that’ll last?
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| Wants me to tie her up, but said I have to put the paddle back
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| Master of the universe, He-man, I’m back on battlecat
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| Mad’ll rap — circles around these rappers, hold your bladder back!
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| I sabotage and camouflage and cause an avalanche
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| So call an ambulance, while this track keep playin a mandolin
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| Scrambling these words together, no one fucks with fancy pants
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| I’m vain as fuck, can’t walk by a mirror without a handsome glance!
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| I’m a sick and twisted midget with invisible friends
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| I cut like scissors with precision while you’re miserably vague
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| I mutilate the master, leave them physically dead
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| Some rappers run away from me like I’m a biblical plague
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| Sometimes I paint my face like juggalos and twisted sister
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| Eleven on the richtor, sick-o, I’m a triple twister
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| What comes around, goes around Ill close you down clown
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| Lyrics they keep circling your head, like Bose surround sound!
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| Okay, remain sober, insane cobra, the evil green dragon
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| Pain’s over, white range rover, to silver G wagon
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| I watch for new popular acts like I got binoculars
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| Cause one day, my shit is gonna end like the apocalypse!
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| But ‘til then, rapper fuck around he’s getting stamped out
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| Devil ain’t just knocking on my door, he’s fucking camped out!
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| Would someone please tell Lucifer I’m back to being a recluse again?
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| Every night I pray to God with Jesus on the crucifix!
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| And I don’t want no problems, but the little Goblin’s gone legit
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| No disrespect, but following your path, my life has gone to shit!
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| And even though I’m dope as barrels full of coke and heroine
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| I’m happy being clean and flying straighter than an arrow is!
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| The devil’s laughing, while these rappers buy his hollow dreams
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| Me? |
| I’m down with juggalos, paint our faces like Halloween!
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| Cellar dweller, you’re Helen Keller, I am Skeletor
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| My juggernaut gone in 60 seconds like an Eleanor!
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| I’m a sick and twisted midget with invisible friends
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| I cut like scissors with precision while you’re miserably vague
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| I mutilate the master, leave them physically dead
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| Some rappers run away from me like I’m a biblical plague
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| Sometimes I paint my face like juggalos and twisted sister
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| Eleven on the richtor, sick-o, I’m a triple twister
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| What comes around, goes around Ill close you down clown
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| Lyrics they keep circling your head, like Bose surround sound!
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| Ayo I’m doper than a barrel in a boat
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| Full of heroin and coke
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| Still I’m straighter than an arrow in a bow!
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| My style’s beautiful like Marilyn Monroe
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| But I’m more like Charlie Manson, when I’m tearin out your throat!
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| Once you get a buzz, if you lose it, it’s hard to get it back
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| So I’m working seven days a week while tryin to keep my head intact
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| So many rappers now, don’t matter if you’re twice as dope
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| Tryna' ride a rusty bicycle back up an icy slope!
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| But due to due diligence the new villain of dooms not through killing it
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| Dude, I’m to militant
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| When I get in the zone, I’m an abstract evil poet
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| And I’m still yet to have my time, I think the people know it!
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| I’m in the Barker Lounge coming up with a darker sound
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| Hellhounds, and demons in my head, my dogs are barking now!
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| It’s fun to beast but gotta leave the ego out of it
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| Hit the kids with love, cause that’ll beat the evil out of’em
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| Backpack rapper, I am underground, it’s pretty basic
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| Just get a pad and pen and smokes and find a dirty basement
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| Little devil, I rap for angels with dirty faces
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| They come from hurting places, feel it when I’m blurting statements!
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| I’m a sick and twisted midget with invisible friends
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| I cut like scissors with precision while you’re miserably vague
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| I mutilate the master, leave them physically dead
|
| Some rappers run away from me like I’m a biblical plague
|
| Sometimes I paint my face like juggalos and twisted sister
|
| Eleven on the richtor, sick-o, I’m a triple twister
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| What comes around, goes around Ill close you down clown
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| Lyrics they keep circling your head, like Bose surround sound! |