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[Intro] |
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(You know my Uncle Critter said, |
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"You look like you been shot at and missed |
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************t at and hit" |
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[Hook] |
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On that ass, ************ |
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Bumpin’ this funky-ass ************t to ride to |
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Yeah, and I be bumpin’ this funky-ass ************t to ride to |
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Yeah, on that ass, ************ |
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And I be bumpin’ this funky-ass ************t to ride to |
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Trunk Muzik, bumpin’ this funky-ass ************t to ride to |
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[Verse 1] |
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Mello Yello can in my hand, |
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Mullet hawk, what? |
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Country folks don’t talk much |
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They just get to work : sawdust |
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Chainsaw, axe, knife, cut firewood, burn, logs, heat |
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Sleepin’ bag by the bricks: call me the fly, I’m on some ************t |
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Drum this out with two sticks |
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Soup a high school Coupe for new kicks |
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Zoom, raps make mummies jealous from a tomb |
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Knock twice if you feel it |
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Born to rip, I should’ve been |
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Perforated by the rings like a Mead notebook |
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************s want an artery blocked when I’m around |
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Circulated, nerds are in, Urkel made it |
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I’ll slap Urkel, take his lunch money |
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Punks they run from me, drunk and upset |
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But I don’t run clumsy, punch a perp’ |
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A one, two, three: I’m at the Chelsea Hotel |
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Like Sid & Nancy with the knife, and two grams of candy |
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Give me the dizzies, fee, fee, ****** me |
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Please oh please don’t leave |
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Just give me the keys and crank that beat |
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‘Cause I might double up and straight dry heave |
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But believe, oh believe I’m cold, I’mma freeze this beat |
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Like Freon, frickin’ neon, that’s me glowing in a snowstorm |
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Look here, we in these streets like a pair of Nikes |
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Well, I might be more like a pair of nice jeans, cause I’m… |
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[Hook] |
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[Verse 2] |
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So what’s new? |
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Been on that ************t, where’s the atlas? |
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Thumbtack it, South Cackalack it, Alabama has it, go |
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Relax in a 1985 box train, perhaps I’m playin’ Relapse |
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Boss, Eminem saw the gem in him |
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Oh, me? Yeah, who thought? |
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Just toss the white trash out the window |
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Now I’m in a ditch like broken pencils |
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Empty bottles and stolen rentals |
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This one is for all my kinfolk |
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Yeah, bring ‘em in, though |
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Out the rain, what’s a friend for? |
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Word, oh for sure, yours truly, at the door |
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Had to add a syllable to that word |
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Country, but, oh, of course |
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************ go berserk for certainly, no need to be coerced |
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Odd economy, don’t need no nine-nine-nine-nine-nine and I know |
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Just the na, na, na, na, hey, hey, hey, goodbye, and hey, let’s roll |
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These hoes are no good, pills are okay |
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I just wanna get high, ****** what you say |
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Wild, the pen-play kind of like a samurai sword |
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With a big ************, bow to sensei |
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Mother******’ ************, it’s pay your rent day |
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Do I not look like my name was MJ |
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One glove and a ******’ pair of penny loafers |
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And I moonwalk on the tempo like Billy Jean is not my friend, no |
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[Hook] |
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[Outro] |
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Yeah… yeah… |
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Bumpin’ this funky-ass ************t to ride to |
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On that ass, ************ |
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Bumpin’ this funky-ass ************t to ride to |
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On that ass, ho |
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Bumpin’ this funky-ass ************t to ride to |
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Yeah, I’m on my ************t now… |
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Yeah, I’m on my ************t now… |
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Yeah, I’m on my ************t now… |
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Yeah, I’m on my ************t now… |
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Yeah, I’m on my ************t now… |
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Yeah, I’m on my ************t now… |
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Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go |
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Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go |
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Let’s go, let’s go |
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Yeah, I’m on my ************t now… |
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I’m on my ************t now… |
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I’m on my ************t now… |
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I’m on my ************t now… |
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I’m on my… |
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Yeah, I’m on my ************t now… |
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I’m on my ************t now… |
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Let’s go! |