| Yo, dude with the metal beard
|
| Dude here’s the metal here
|
| Hell’s Angel, bang you
|
| No dude, heaven’s devils here
|
| We outshout the posse
|
| Clappin' trey, happy days, the Ralph Malph and Potsie
|
| Sean still smack the
|
| Car when it starts sound like bronchial asthma
|
| Writing like I don’t like writing
|
| Other fish in the sea but the Pisces like whiting
|
| The rise of the Lycan, my fighting is like Tyson
|
| Fighting the Viking ignitin' a riot when I’m typing
|
| Thinking you the best, you crazy
|
| Best you rest dudes, get two test tube babies
|
| The epic mess that’s left on steps is crazy
|
| A weapon’s kept the sket will undress ladies
|
| Eloqeunce suggesting
|
| Never vote black at president elections
|
| Vic coming through devastating damage
|
| Hit you with the blam blam, the man hand sandwich
|
| I stay next door to an ape
|
| The late B.B. King, bass guitar scorching your face
|
| I don’t poli- with that squally
|
| I probably should teach my kids to catch bodies
|
| Let’s have a flesh party
|
| Big guns, bug fists, one man killa army
|
| This is bull pen therapy
|
| My wife’s tripping, I knew I should have married weed
|
| The whole team is down, I’m sending henchmen
|
| I don’t got no secrets like Brendan Benson
|
| Allow milk to a aging goat
|
| Crazy shit, 80s shit, selling pregnant ladies coke
|
| I’m old s- like a 2Pac record
|
| Circuit board to the common chores, hit the exit |