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"I'm no fuckin' good, and I never have been" (Al Pacino - The Scent of a Woman 1992) |
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Verse 1 |
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I was born with a sick morbid addiction for the disgraceful |
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more than a bit tormented with a love for the distasteful |
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sick fables told in a rhyme, disabled most of the mind |
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i had, with my mom and dad threw me out the bag 'cause i got so into wine |
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kind'a had a lust for the hazardous stuff they just didn't like |
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made 'em mad at us when we grab our nuts and had to cuss when they give us mics |
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sip again, its like it did what spinach might do to a sailor |
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in the right mood I'll invite you to bite Lou's genitalia |
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ever had your walnuts crushed, let a rapper call us nuts |
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better have your balls tucked up tight if you like your draws uncut |
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you get your mic cord unplugged quicker than you get a ticket when you double park at a shop that sells doughnuts just a couple cars from a cop |
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I love to start with a scotch, or another hard liquor shot |
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even when a fella swig a lot you can never tell if I'm lit or not |
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my, does it hit the spot when I trick a cop with a itch to lock me up |
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prob'ly just 'cause J and I got a little too much hiphop in us |
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Chorus |
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It's a little bit devious, and a little ingenious |
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when your CD is teaching kids the meaning of what a heathen is |
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the devil wan'na get a piece of this but I won't let 'em |
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still Heavens had it for the grievances I bet I don't get in |
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I'm a, little bit wrongdoer, but a bit like righteous |
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still scribblin' my songs through the midst of a midlife crisis |
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they tellin' me that I'm the nicest but as much as folks would |
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they seldom mean how my life is I been up to no good |
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Verse 2 |
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Malevolent resident, turned decadent president |
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ever since Heaven sent me into a saloon full of bad medicine |
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J jettison beats through the board, bangin' time, reach through the chords |
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like a modern day Edison who had intent to ?send? his own Frankenstein |
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and made a rhyme way better than the rest of the rap rejects |
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three steps ahead of the pack and destined to have respect |
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for incredible raps and tight shows, two devilish cats you might know |
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for craftin' more unforgettable tracks for the brats than Tyco |
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they thought he was a psycho 'cause he likes flows in a 3-4 |
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and writes prose with his eyes closed while he drives home on a detour |
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scourge of the police force on the run with a cold twelve-pack |
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stupid and drunk and doin' a hundred and one with no belt strap |
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the ruinous one Louis has come tell that to our govenor |
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I've taken the track to Hades and back and hell had to turn the oven up |
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truth is they hated the rap music has greater impact |
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on views than the mistruths on the evening news so the devil's takin' it back |
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Chorus |
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It's a little bit devious, and a little ingenious |
|
when your CD is teaching kids the meaning of what a heathen is |
|
the devil wan'na get a piece of this but I won't let 'em |
|
still Heavens had it for the grievances I bet I don't get in |
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I'm a, little bit wrongdoer, but a bit like righteous |
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still scribblin' my songs through the midst of a midlife crisis |
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they tellin' me that I'm the nicest but as much as folks would |
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they seldom mean how my life is I been up to no good |
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"I'm gon'na teach you to fly |
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We've only tasted the wine |
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We're gon'na drink the cup dry" (x2) |
