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
Copyright ©
Jude Herrick
|