Gangsta r

(Thinks) I Float like a Butterfly and sting like a tazer. Mouth of the South, but my lips don't say (intelligent) words Like Muhammad Alley Bin drive by shooting Bin Laden with delusions of g, Being a lefty, I blame it on Putin, or White Supremacy Black on Black murders by cops pickin' on me Pulling over a Black man jus fo robbin' a stop This ry is fascist so I gotta hip hop and here is my slop: I complain about Supremacy even though there ain't no conspiracy no skinheads as far as the eye can see but it makes me money, thanks whitey for supplying the green money for nothin and my turn of trick for free and as for my backup singer who can actually sing You get my con job bowlshat, my catechism of Hollywood imaging, aneurism from listening to my stupidity, mirage but not my 8 car garage You get my narcissism, plagiarism, dishonest wagiarism and Nickle Menage (two is) Delusions of grandeur exploiting the other gender what's good for the goose if she's loose as hell I'm on music television now on every controller I got too many toys, a subway commercial and Company lawyer Alt Chorus: I contrive my walk like I am off to buy Kools U gotsto respect my distance and posse behind like a fool If you can't do, label PhD, Dr. Pepper, Dr. Mouth Dr. Tool, Dr. Hook err, Dr. Tool with pants to my knees in the City Center As long as I make it rain as I enter Cause I cruising like I fly and stinkin up the city Blowing smoke on the youth so they can live my tragedy It don't take braille to read, me. If you got a mind to see. That i'm full of shst and filthy hypocrisy. Blame the ones who buy my records while I pretend to be discriminated but discriminate them in my criminal soundbooth beat LAvatory I talk my shat to woman, when in reality I am the whore, a worm mercenary, selling out anyone and anything with no consciencing or soul and I don't even know how to sing or play the score, no not a thing except you and your kids in a sell out kind of way, then im out, Put your penthouse'gram in the middle and that's what it's all about, Hustler Don't believe in America or obey God Just an Angel of Mercenary bid upon and got Got no hip or hop and no rhyme Got my shat on up on your dime Got my swag on, a bag on your face No flag on either my Twitter or Facebook page Cause I'm working for the stage I got outta the hood work for the shadow .gov instead A tat on, got my bad on no original thought in my head, as I walk along new Babylon like the shiiit and Indoctrinate your kids I am a slug dealer, a fake healer, characature- comic book system of a down- to what f ails you, but as an instigator- racist, sellout- opportunist, I tells you Like it is I am an open black book anarchist gangland clown bwitch