Lyrics

Jumped out of the 2nd floor of a record store with a Treacherous Four cassette and a cassette recorder in Ecuador with Edward Norton Witness the metamorphosis of a legend growin' like an expert swordsman from the Hessian war and hence the origin of the Headless Horseman Born with the endorphins of a pathetic orphan Endless source and reservoir of extension cords in dresser drawers, and deadbolts on the bedroom door, and sexual torture kits kept in a separate storage bin Excellent boyfriend! Use intercourse to settle scores with women who have vendettas towards men Dickhead is forced in 'till there's shredded foreskin Reddish torn, and they're only bein' fed a portion Bed sores, and sore shins, pregnant whores can get abortions Fetish for stickin' metal forks in, self-absorption Skeletor, I went to Hell and fell a floor A predator, I'm headed for competitors Better warn 'em, what I lack in tact and a set of morals I make up for in metaphors like a cosmetic store Stegosaurus, Chuck Norris with a thesaurus Yes, of course, a mess of warrants You want some? Come and get some, boys! I'm givin' Daniel Pantaleo a refresher course on excessive force and pressure points, and dressin' George Zimmerman in a fluorescent orange dress and four inch heels to address the court with a bullseye on his back His whole chest, and torso are left on the doorsteps of Trayvon's dad as a present for him! In my present form I'm Desert Storm Appetite for destruction, there's no suppressant for Aggressive, forceful, and less remorseful in every morsel Unpleasant, horrible; hello, gorgeous! The rebel with devil horns just fell off the yellow short bus Met a contortionist said, "When you wanna get sexual?" She said, "However I fit in your schedule. I'm flexible." Expired tags on the Saturn... Got Catherine Bach in the back in Daisy Dukes with the hazards on at a traffic stop gettin' harassed, signed an autograph for this asshole cop's daughter Laughed 'cause I called her a brat on it, he spat on it, and brought it back lookin' half in shock Had a heart attack, and dropped dead Started fallin' back with it, and got slapped with a Colin Kaepernick practice sock One ball and half a dick: Apple Watch Cracked front axle, walked in a Bass Pro Shop with David Hasselhoff Pulled Tabasco sauce out of my satchel Knocked over a fisherman's tackle box and asked if they had a laugh in stock? That was fuckin' stupid... You got it twisted, all 'cause I offered this bitch a doggie biscuit, you call me misogynistic? Bitch, get to massagin' this dick! Like spas in this bitch, slob on it with gobs of lipstick Got a shoppin' list for you to run some odds and ends with There's not a bitch on this earth I can be monogamous with She's non-existent Robin Thicke with a throbbin' dick on some suave and slick shit, but I shout derivatives at bitches like fuckin' missile launchers Misfit, blond, and nitwit Like I've gone ballistic, with a frostin' tip kit Screamed, "I hate blondes!" and became one... I'm optimistic Love to start shit Shovin' Clark Kent's undergarments in the glove compartment of the bucket, bumpin' Bubba Sparxxx I'm double parkin' up at Targets, trouble causer, a double crosser, shadiest mothafucka you'll ever come across Olympic gymnast, been known for "some assaults" A couple lawsuits, enough to cause a stomach ulcer Same damn brain scan results as Rainman's'es Something's aweful when Dustin Hoffman's dressin' up in your mummy costume on stage dancin' to "Brain Damage," What's the problem? Nothing's wrong, the name brand is back to reclaim status Run the faucet, I'mma dunk a bunch of Trump supporters underwater Snuck up on 'em in Ray-Bans in a gray van with a spray tan It's a wrap, like an ACE bandage Don't-give-a-fuck persona, to my last DNA strand E&J in the waistband, at the VMAs with the stagehand She wants kielbasa Pre-arrange an escape plan Three-inch blade on point, like a See-and-Say Consider me a dangerous man, but you should be afraid of this dang candidate You say Trump don't kiss ass like a puppet 'cause he runs his campaign with his own cash for the fundin' And that's what you wanted, a fuckin' loose cannon who's blunt with his hand on the button who doesn't have to answer to no one? —Great idea! If I was president "gettin' off" is the first order of business once I get in office Second thing that'll make me happy's walkin' up to Uncle Sam naked, laughin', dick cupped in hand, screamin', "Fuck safe sex!" Throw a latex and an AIDS test at him! Tell Congress I run this land, and I want the rubber banned, and make it snappy Addiction to friction and static Addict who can't escape the habit Continue to chase the dragon, but as fate would have it, I walked up in Major Magics dressed as the maintenance man in a laser tag vest and a racin' jacket with a gauge to blast it, and sped away in the station wagon Stacey Dash's and Casey Anthony's crazy asses in the backseat throwin' Stayfree pads at me Dead passenger in the passenger seat Unfasten the safety latches, and slam on the brakes in traffic so hard I snapped the relocation brackets for the monster tires 'finna get a murder case and catch it like you threw it at me encased in plastic And send Dylann Roof through the windshield of the Benz until he spins like a pinwheel and begins feelin' like a windmiller with a thin build while his skin's peelin', and skids 'til he hits a cement pillar Swing for the fence like Prince Fielder, knock it into the upper peninsula You wanna go against 'zilla, The Rap God? When will I quit? Never been realer The in-stiller of fear, not even a scintilla of doubt whose pens iller than Prince in a chinchilla or Ben Stiller in a suspense thriller Revenge killer, avenge syllable binge Fill a syringe, 'til I... Draw first blood Even pop shit on my pop shit, and it's popular Couldn't be more awkwarder cause you're innocence I robbed you of It's my fingers that got stuck up Taught ya ta, not give a slapstick hockey puck The broad hunter with the sawed off like an arm when it's lopped off of ya, but I'm not gonna get the shotgun or the Glock I'm gonna opt for the ox 'cause I'm into objects that are sharp when I shop, and it's not a shock, I'm such an obnoxious fucker... The Rock Hudson of rock 'cause who would have thought this much of a cocksucker to go across the buttocks of Vivica Fox with a box cutter? That was for 50 Little slap on the wrist, be warned I'm unravelin' quickly My squabbles, I'm grappling with your time traveling with me Try and follow, as I wobble, relapse into history, with a flask of the whiskey Tip it back then I'm twisting wine bottles like what happened to Chris Reeve's spine column That's the plan of attack when I'm fixing my problems Wish my chest wasn't having to get these rhymes off 'em But the fact that I have so many rappers against me mind boggles And why I haven't come back on these faggots who diss me is more of a spectacular mystery than a fucking Agatha Christie crime novel! But my patience is wearing thin Swear I been contemplatin' rubbing shit in your face 'til I smear it in Diss you in every lyric until you fear the pen and never appear again if you actually had fuckin' careers to end But then I think of Molly Qerim and I steer 'em in that direction and forget my ideas for them... Molly, I'm gone off you Man, light some kush You're my first take, I'll nail you Can't lie, I gush If I won you over, you would be the grand prize I'm entranced by your looks, come and give the Shady franchise a push You can get it in the can like some Anheuser Busch Jeans too small, least three pant sizes Tush mushed against your damn side, your puss and thighs are squished What kind of attire's that? I'm ready to be rode Psychopath, bet you we'll get it poppin' like a flat Light the match to ignite the wrath Got knives to slash and slice hermaphrodites in half Piper Chapman might just have to picket me like a scab Hard to describe in fact Startling, violent, perhaps are things that come to mind as soon as I start spitting rhymes like that And you aren't really surprised at that, but as far as these lines I rap, and these bars, wouldn't dial it back if I star 69'ed the track Why am I such a dick?
Writer(s): Mark Christopher Batson, Emile Haynie, Denaun M. Porter, Marshall B. Mathers Iii Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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