Lyrics

How many songs, son, how many songs? Yo, son, it's like15 I dare a little punk to try to diss me You wanna know why? Because The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data With the hardcore data because I spit on spectators The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data To smash motherfuckers to potatoes The microphone mutilator, I bruise your crews and neighbors Do you dudes a favor, show you how to use a razor Are you a Buddha blazer? Yes, I get zooted major And all you stupid haters, hit you with computer lasers I got the smoothest flavor Makin' moves, movin' makers Off the roof, who's to save ya? Who's ya savior? Celph Titled the Rubix Ranger Scoopin' paper when I'm doin' capers And what's inside this bazooka case will shoot a crater In your screw face and doofus gaffers My ruthless anger got animal in the zoo behavior Now who's the sprayer? Lose your body in a lake or tombs or chambers Where you'll consume fumes and vapors We mash fucks like super potatoes It's true we'll do fools in, bury them with the rutabagas Sooner or later Fine tuned parachuting invaders will tear through your Winnebago Wearin' suits and aimin' aero fusion phasers They talkin' mules and acres I'm filmin' movies in Bermuda On a cruise to Jamaica I'm a front tooth eraser You's a booty shaker And you'll be found in a pool With barracudas and gators The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data With the hardcore data because I spit on spectators The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data To smash motherfuckers to potatoes I'm too real, I'll still will kill No frills, no gold grills, hold still hooker, hoe chill I know you smoke krills You shouldn't go 'til I throw you out the mobile In Mobile, Alabama, in a pile of ants and pajamas Surrounded by a thousand salamanders I'm a bust a round of cannons off camouflaged as a satanic Santa Claus Ain't another man that's raw, you should turn your cameras on 'Cause I'm bringin' the blama sauce, the blicker oil The trigger boilin' hot from firing shots, I'll spit it for you I'll promise you that, ask mama who's back? The motherfucking Montezuma of rap, hollering, blamp And that's the way it goes down you fraudulent foe clown I'm a put your skull in the dryer and watch it go 'round I'm salutin' one for y'all, no more shootin' guns at all I'm boostin' the son from God The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data With the hardcore data because I spit on spectators The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data To smash motherfuckers to potatoes So, so, so when I walk in a club with black jeans and a white tee You're on a walkie talkie callin' security "Hurry please, it's Celph and he came strapped" Bringin' so much pain that, you can't get enough Novocain packs So insane in fact I was held captive By unattractive cave women overdosed on Pro-Active Yo, this that shit from the dynamite stick expert With bottle rockets I flip with hotter objects of sex And they flex in my bedroom Legs spread, thick red head bitch, boom With no freckles, she was actually half black Icelandic I might land this Spanish, Italian, French Or whatever the fuck airport they got At my mansion the size of a Marriott Yes, my rhymes are very hot So where a vest 'cause when my CDs are pressed They fly like Japanese Ninja stars and they'll injure y'all The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data With the hardcore data because I spit on spectators The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data To smash motherfuckers to potatoes I told y'all motherfuckers, that's hardcore bitch, niggas You're not hardcore motherfuckers, we buckwildin', yo Buck You know you hardcore on this one, hardcore tracks Bring that shit back, fuck that, yo
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