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"Dissection of the Ass Whooping"
by:  Eric L. Boddie

Congratulations to you for winning the election
But when you campaign for this ass whooping, you hate the win section
My foot strikes cerebrals of people so they turn feeble
So don't be next in line for this infinite sequel
Because if you didn't already know, you're about to learn
You turning black and blue is my only concern
And you can keep the heat as long as I've got hands and feet
I'll throw them thangs on ya and trick you out your treat
Then shove it up your ass until they hear you cum
So you better beg the Wu-Tang for the iron lung
I can see you there shaking with that nervous twitch
Afraid of this ass whooping, old school calls that a b****
So what do you do, get a f****** gun
And you miss your target, them kids were just having some fun
How many hopes are lost, how long before the memories fade
That pain scars the Soul and can't be unscaved
So mentally enslaved, brothers turn against one another
When we got mad, we'd whoop some ass and then discover
That we could be friends the very next day
That's the power of the ass whooping, these hands don't play
and I've stared down the barrel once but felt no fear
Because between the gun and I was God so I'm still here
Now I'll walk away from a fight, but I won't back down
I won't play you for a fool, but if you clown
Just know I am a man who does it all to keep the Peace
So be ready for the kraken if you release the beast
Then you'll really need guns, guns, guns, guns and guns some more
To keep you from becoming a mud stain in the floor
Yall need Smith and Wesson to act super bad
Well, just thinking about this s*** is about to make me mad
Don't blame it on your missing dad or your whorish mom
If you're that scared of the ass whooping, you should f****** run
Instead you bust your guns as the number one option
Not even concerned with whose breath you are stopping
What if your mother crossed your line of fire
At the exact moment you bullet chose flesh to desire
I knew a murder victim and the murderer too
Within an hour, he murdered himself, that should give you a clue
About all the pressure that comes along with gun play
At least with the ass whooping, everyone can walk away
Maybe limp, maybe be carried with swollen eyes and missing teeth
Perhaps with broken bones, but, at least, you still breathe
So you can fight another day, that's if you're still looking
They call me Goodest, and I approve this message for ass whoopings

Stop the genocide and guns....
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