eating the beat this is pacman I'm on the grind like a motherfucking lap dance shorty gonn' do whatever says shes a rap fan Every nigga round me Robin, Batman All black coupes All black
with a red neck A red neck, a chicken ass red neck A fat bubbly bitch with a red neck, turkey funky chicken neck Bitch it's twiztid with a z You red
with a red neck A red neck, a chicken ass red neck A fat bubbly bitch with a red neck, turkey funky chicken neck Bitch it's Twiztid with a Z You red
The dead but sticking out like hon solo when he froze With my favorite weapons hanging off there fingers and toes Wicked pimpin, scary bitches, livin or dead
with bump n' grinding right I like mines tight, you like yours licked And we both like bitches to get high, high wit You opted to leave a nigga with
Tec-9] Get Into It With A Nigga Gotta Tote My Gun (WE LIVE BY THE GUN, WE DIE BY THE GUN) Get Into It With A Nigga Gotta Tote My Gun, It's plain to see
more coke, no more dope, just alcohol and sess Respect my rhyme because my mind is filled up with anger Sound like I got a glock for it With black ?
up the spot for all of you 'cuz that's how we Get down Comin' with the brand new quickly we pan to The young black man with intentions to ban you Seems
L.S.D. ain't what it used to be for me Inside of dead weight standing, speaking with authority Black smoke is swirling upward masking The dark side,
Cry Little Dead Again, Cry Little Dead Stare Into Black T.V.'s And Wonder When These Things Alone At Night, They Bring Me Death If I'm Alone Tonight,
Oh oh oh oh oh oh Naw no is what I say when I came to see a show I look and it's dead, dead You know like a body in the ground Will your show ever grow
Blasphemous Alterations [chorus] Dance of the Dead, with sabbatic goats Needled death of suicide, blessed by the gods Vaginal Lacerations, an orgy with the dead
like I've just been born When you look at me with your green eyes When you look at me with your black eyes When you look at me with your dead eyes And
man smiles At a thistle under a Poet's moon Under a Poet's moon there are angels crying, dead men born And devils laughing and the dance goes on regardless
beautiful... memory of love A Dance with the dead It does exist We still remain Create this beautiful... memory of love A Dance with the dead It does
club and girls turn extra dyke We know who not gettin' no sex tonight And a lap dance will probably be a blessing right So all the shit you talking dead
with me, is you with me Its fly or die so get live tonight Can you feel the sick run the city? Is you with me, is you with me I said its fly or die
different ways I'ma win [J] My brain jiggle in pickled jars Brooknam phenomenan, Worf a lush in bars, black fingers splittin cigars [S] Shittin in bars with