| You ever been about to fuck a bitch
|
| And before you take her pants off you can smell her pussy in the air?
|
| What about the hotels dawg?
|
| Everybody been to the hotel, got in the room
|
| There’s shit in the toilet
|
| Dick hair on the seat
|
| And somebody blood on the towel
|
| Well this shit here for you!
|
| (Jamie Madrox)
|
| Carbonation and puss bubbles in open wounds
|
| Hospitals and old men that
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| Chew stuff and spit chew
|
| Old bitches that smell like a fish hut
|
| They sit up at the mall on they break ache butt
|
| Butt crust and scabs
|
| Even secretions too
|
| There’s a lot of weird people that live in the world we do
|
| They jack off in they rides, while watchin' the ladies walk by
|
| They go in the store and touch every product inside
|
| I say nobody sees it
|
| And they act like its a long shot
|
| Is there a pubic hair floatin' in my pop
|
| Is there a toe nail in the coleslaw again
|
| From them sick bitches workin' up at Kentucky Fried Chicken
|
| The mother fuckers hate me and I know that they do
|
| Because they have to get to work when my ass come through
|
| And if you
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| Spit in my food Imma kill you dude
|
| I know it might seem harsh
|
| But I’m Feelin' a strange mood to
|
| They keep on freakin' me out
|
| They keep on freakin' me out
|
| They keep on freakin' me out
|
| (???) freaks me out
|
| (Jamie Madrox)
|
| Runnin' bumper to bumper in rush hour traffic
|
| Ain’t got no hood ornament, I got an asshole magnet
|
| And it attracts every half ass and dead beat
|
| Who wanna pump they breaks like they want they trunk in they back seat
|
| And who is this tryin' to commit suicide
|
| You a grown ass man and you ridin' a fuckin' bike at night
|
| With dark clothes like you got a death wish
|
| Get your punk ass on the sidewalk broke bitch
|
| And this motherfucker crossing the street is takin' forever
|
| Like he tryin' to figure out which side of the street that he likes better
|
| Better pick fast if I press the gas
|
| And plus I’m goin' so fast
|
| That Imma swerve and clip his ass
|
| And this cop is in my rear view pullin' me over
|
| And if I roll the window down he gonna smell the aroma
|
| He’s out there reachin' for his gun
|
| I put my hands on the hood
|
| Anyway you paint it
|
| The situation is no good
|
| They keep on freakin' me out
|
| They keep on freakin' me out
|
| They keep on freakin' me out
|
| (???) freaks me out
|
| (Jamie Madrox)
|
| Psychiatrist and doctors in hotel beds
|
| Bitches who hit blunts after they give head
|
| Sick fucks are the ones I hate the worst
|
| Lookin' at young bitches while stroking their coin purse
|
| Nursin' a cup of coffee that’s black and ice cold
|
| It was hot when he bought it three hours ago though
|
| He got a dish plate size nut stain on his pants
|
| And he roaming a single column in search of finding some ass
|
| And the motherfuckers sit at home behind computer screens
|
| And discuss dirty sex wit a kid that’s only thirteen
|
| You Sick Bitch!
|
| I hope I never catch you right
|
| Imma slit your throat wit the jagged edge of a survival knife
|
| It’s fucks like this that make me worry tough
|
| And have every parent in the world ready to handcuff
|
| They kid
|
| And keep em' on a short leash and near
|
| But ain’t no place safe cause sick fucks are everywhere
|
| They keep on freakin' me out
|
| They keep on freakin' me out
|
| They keep on freakin' me out
|
| (???) freaks me out |