Psycho Rhymes Lyrics
| Song | Psycho Rhymes |
| Artist | Master P |
| Album | Mama's Bad Boy |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Yo it's 1992 and master p is back up in this mother******* | |
| (yo man lets do this *************t right, man. if everybody plays right, then put yo | |
| Right hand over yo heart, and let yo left hand grab yo nut. now everybody | |
| Sing along, *************.) | |
| (stop the music!) | |
| We are the world | |
| We are the dealers | |
| We are the ones that sell crack ******* | |
| So let's start sellin' | |
| There's a fiend in every hood | |
| Dumb fiends that bring they pipes | |
| It's truly ************* betta then | |
| That's why we dealin' | |
| (c'mon everybody) | |
| We are the world | |
| We are the dealers | |
| We are the ones that sell crack ******* | |
| So let's start sellin' | |
| (talking muffled by loud beats) | |
| Check this out fool | |
| I'm at this party | |
| These two ******* lookin' hella pretty | |
| I walk up and kiss 'em each on they ******' t | |
| I say "your hole there - it's about to explode" | |
| I took a gat to her ass & she took off her clothes | |
| In other words i be movin' fast like a pick...pocket | |
| See- i'm a mother-******' maniac i gotta top it | |
| I talk to the ************* ... before i kill 'em | |
| I'm like a psycho like charles manson - the blood drilla' | |
| I take yo life and take yo arms and cut the ******* off | |
| And play a bloody mother-******' game of golf | |
| And break your arms, your legs i shoulda did it sooner | |
| Reach in yo stomach - pull out a piece o' tuna | |
| I guess you're dead, you're ghost, you gotta go | |
| You untested, cause damn they like arrested codes | |
| For a dead ************* - ya give some good head | |
| Ya must be on yo period - 'cause my ************* is bloody red | |
| I left it in you | |
| I see you face - ya about ta cry | |
| But before ya do make me pull out them eyes... | |
| Make me slap yo mother-******' face but don't speak | |
| That big round ass could make some good luncheon meat | |
| In other words you're dead, you got your cap peeled | |
| See i'm a crazy mother******* and that *************t's real | |
| Yo man, whacha think about that | |
| (man, what you say about that is bull*************t - that *************t ain't real) | |
| Oh, aight, check this out | |
| It's 1993 and master p is back in this mother******* | |
| Ya know what i'm sayin' | |
| I had to get a lil' stupid 'cause last year some *************z was talkin' *************t | |
| But see, i'm back | |
| Ya know what i'm sayin' | |
| I'm about to get paid | |
| And all them mother*******s that try to stop me | |
| There's gonna be a bloody murda | |
| Yo kent, turn up some of that gangsta-ass music |
| Yo it' s 1992 and master p is back up in this mother | |
| yo man lets do this t right, man. if everybody plays right, then put yo | |
| Right hand over yo heart, and let yo left hand grab yo nut. now everybody | |
| Sing along, . | |
| stop the music! | |
| We are the world | |
| We are the dealers | |
| We are the ones that sell crack | |
| So let' s start sellin' | |
| There' s a fiend in every hood | |
| Dumb fiends that bring they pipes | |
| It' s truly betta then | |
| That' s why we dealin' | |
| c' mon everybody | |
| We are the world | |
| We are the dealers | |
| We are the ones that sell crack | |
| So let' s start sellin' | |
| talking muffled by loud beats | |
| Check this out fool | |
| I' m at this party | |
| These two lookin' hella pretty | |
| I walk up and kiss ' em each on they ' t | |
| I say " your hole there it' s about to explode" | |
| I took a gat to her ass she took off her clothes | |
| In other words i be movin' fast like a pick... pocket | |
| See i' m a mother' maniac i gotta top it | |
| I talk to the ... before i kill ' em | |
| I' m like a psycho like charles manson the blood drilla' | |
| I take yo life and take yo arms and cut the off | |
| And play a bloody mother' game of golf | |
| And break your arms, your legs i shoulda did it sooner | |
| Reach in yo stomach pull out a piece o' tuna | |
| I guess you' re dead, you' re ghost, you gotta go | |
| You untested, cause damn they like arrested codes | |
| For a dead ya give some good head | |
| Ya must be on yo period ' cause my is bloody red | |
| I left it in you | |
| I see you face ya about ta cry | |
| But before ya do make me pull out them eyes... | |
| Make me slap yo mother' face but don' t speak | |
| That big round ass could make some good luncheon meat | |
| In other words you' re dead, you got your cap peeled | |
| See i' m a crazy mother and that t' s real | |
| Yo man, whacha think about that | |
| man, what you say about that is bull t that t ain' t real | |
| Oh, aight, check this out | |
| It' s 1993 and master p is back in this mother | |
| Ya know what i' m sayin' | |
| I had to get a lil' stupid ' cause last year some z was talkin' t | |
| But see, i' m back | |
| Ya know what i' m sayin' | |
| I' m about to get paid | |
| And all them mother s that try to stop me | |
| There' s gonna be a bloody murda | |
| Yo kent, turn up some of that gangstaass music |
| Yo it' s 1992 and master p is back up in this mother | |
| yo man lets do this t right, man. if everybody plays right, then put yo | |
| Right hand over yo heart, and let yo left hand grab yo nut. now everybody | |
| Sing along, . | |
| stop the music! | |
| We are the world | |
| We are the dealers | |
| We are the ones that sell crack | |
| So let' s start sellin' | |
| There' s a fiend in every hood | |
| Dumb fiends that bring they pipes | |
| It' s truly betta then | |
| That' s why we dealin' | |
| c' mon everybody | |
| We are the world | |
| We are the dealers | |
| We are the ones that sell crack | |
| So let' s start sellin' | |
| talking muffled by loud beats | |
| Check this out fool | |
| I' m at this party | |
| These two lookin' hella pretty | |
| I walk up and kiss ' em each on they ' t | |
| I say " your hole there it' s about to explode" | |
| I took a gat to her ass she took off her clothes | |
| In other words i be movin' fast like a pick... pocket | |
| See i' m a mother' maniac i gotta top it | |
| I talk to the ... before i kill ' em | |
| I' m like a psycho like charles manson the blood drilla' | |
| I take yo life and take yo arms and cut the off | |
| And play a bloody mother' game of golf | |
| And break your arms, your legs i shoulda did it sooner | |
| Reach in yo stomach pull out a piece o' tuna | |
| I guess you' re dead, you' re ghost, you gotta go | |
| You untested, cause damn they like arrested codes | |
| For a dead ya give some good head | |
| Ya must be on yo period ' cause my is bloody red | |
| I left it in you | |
| I see you face ya about ta cry | |
| But before ya do make me pull out them eyes... | |
| Make me slap yo mother' face but don' t speak | |
| That big round ass could make some good luncheon meat | |
| In other words you' re dead, you got your cap peeled | |
| See i' m a crazy mother and that t' s real | |
| Yo man, whacha think about that | |
| man, what you say about that is bull t that t ain' t real | |
| Oh, aight, check this out | |
| It' s 1993 and master p is back in this mother | |
| Ya know what i' m sayin' | |
| I had to get a lil' stupid ' cause last year some z was talkin' t | |
| But see, i' m back | |
| Ya know what i' m sayin' | |
| I' m about to get paid | |
| And all them mother s that try to stop me | |
| There' s gonna be a bloody murda | |
| Yo kent, turn up some of that gangstaass music |
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