I get butt naked, that¡¯s how I always start my raps off
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Hop in a stolen Russian rocket and blast off
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Recall an Ashcroft
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I¡¯m chilling in front of a Corona factory drinking
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Budweiser and Mad Dog
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I got the lyrical talent to smash niggas
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Blast niggas, especially arrogant brash niggas
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Ask niggas, everyone¡¯ll tell you the same
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I go from being a music business failure to fame
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I straight bust into Sunday masses with ten Baptists
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Beat Catholics with sacks of communion crackers
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A great fascist, I spit deeper than Sage Francis
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Then hop in a circle of high rastas and say pass it
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I¡¯m mad Gothic, I punch gypsies and smack prophets
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With old pictures of Marilyn Manson and black lockets
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I¡¯m that awkward, paint my nails with black markers
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And sacrifice pigeons with potions made out of hawk turds
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On altars I make with milk cartons
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I can bend over and cassate with spells farting
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While fantasizing about absolutely heinous scenes
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My dreams, I fantasize about the strangest things
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I fantasize about punches faces
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Fantasize about Caucasian atheist racists who hate Haitians
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I fantasize about kicking people down flights of stairs
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And pushing people off of moving trucks tied to chairs
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I fantasize about em lying there
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Fantasize about Halloween and all the small children I¡¯ll try and scare
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Dressed up like a giant bear, passing out candy to only kids
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Dressed like jokers with the others screaming I ain¡¯t fair
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I fantasize about stealing vets
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I fantasize about dressing like a ninja sneaking in and killing pets
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From Rotts to Pit Bulls and faggot Poodles
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Then writing the ransoms for their bodies on magna doodles
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I¡¯m straight spittin', knock you higher than space missions
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Then rip a rapper to shreds and litters like eight kittens
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Just for disrespecting, on a mission on which I¡¯m destined
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To find the answers to all types of deep mystic questions
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Like why are you queer? Hop in a car and drive at you near
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Enough for our vehicles to give each other five with the mirrors
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Then punch you right in the chest as hard as I can
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Then watch you gasp while you crash with your heart in my hand
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You started it, that¡¯s what you get, easy as that
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Question and it¡¯s highly unlikely I¡¯ll leave you intact
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I used to battle, none of them MC¡¯s will be back
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They disappeared like W.M.D.s in Iraq
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And now I just rap for kicks it ain¡¯t even challenging
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Assassination for hire, you can pay me in halogenes
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I¡¯m nuts. Still convinced that I¡¯m Jesus¡¯ eighth cousin
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I¡¯m battling nature, step to the trees and just straight bust it
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You like clubbing? While you and your crew are sipping on Hennies
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I¡¯m out in the parking lot with new equipment and bennies
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And plastic explosives, so when the party¡¯s hitting sho nuff
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As soon as you shut the door and start your whip it blows up
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Wack rappers yearn to be me but they lack factors
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With their haphazard verses and speech and their caps backwards
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Hurting for beats so they hack Napster
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Come up with clever choruses and drop vocals on Aftermath masters
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Try to start their careers off with mixtapes
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They just fake like the so called mucous that causes queers coughs
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Drinking Smirnoffs and popping Crystal
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But you¡¯re artificial like the contents of Britney Spears bras
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I¡¯ll bite your whole album just to make it sicker
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I¡¯m sicker than twenty fat ladies playing naked twister
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I¡¯m sicker than booger-picking loud annoying kids at key club
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I¡¯m sicker than sitting down on toilets with the seat up
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Yo, I¡¯m fearless like militia minute-man men
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Leave a handprint right across Jackie Chan¡¯s chin
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I stand in ten foot pits naked covered with syrup
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While niggas pour buckets of African ants in
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You can¡¯t win, that task is impossible sorry
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Like driving after twenty glasses and shots of Bacardi
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I¡¯ll smash in your living room crash Irv Gotti¡¯s Ferrari
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And ruin you and your crew¡¯s faggot Bath and Bodyworks party
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I know you have em, even though you¡¯re hard on your songs
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At night you kick it by campfires and all try to bond
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You sit around sniffing candles and march by a pond
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While I walk a |