The man rappin' is Andrew Jackson,
I'm autographin' asses and cameras are flashin'
Hands are clappin' and the fans are grabbin'
At my damn ass so fast there's no reaction
Quicken up the beat past the madness
That's the dream I'm having
When I'm passed out asleep or nappin'
That's the reason these labels ain't received the package
From me, and that's the reason that I keep on passin'
On people askin' me to meet with half these
Presidents and chief executives deep in cash
If I needed stacks of fuckin' cheese I'd crash
The fuckin' streets with crack, and just feed the rats.
And I wouldn't have to be the bitch to some white dude
Who makes more money off my shit than I do
Who the fuck would sign you
All the rights to what I write,
Do I look like the type
Who would hesitate to fight you?
Bomb is whistlin', the clock is tickin'
Watch defenceless, what I drop is hittin
With the force to stop helicopter engines
(Mayday, mayday, repeat, our propellers are not spinnin')
Need a picture to fit with the shit I'm talkin'
Envision Nagasaki victims
Skinless walkin' with atomic sickness
Limbs is drippin' off em and they fall in ditches
Twitchin', sobbin'
And I'm the illest mother fucker you can hope to witness
You're a joke to me. What the fuck you smokin'? Listen.
I'm the most vicious, sickening, foul
And animalistic pig since GG Allin
Who's runnin' this show? Let's go
Let 'em know the best flow is comin' from the DC Metro
CDs inject those we got next, yo'
Micphones I wreck those, you got wet clothes
When you first heard me surface, learn this:
I'm kickin' it once, sicker than scum,
Iller than what?
Rippin and burnin it up the sun in the middle of summer
The bigger the lungs, the quicker the tongue,
It'll kill em the sicker the rhythym'll come
To fill up the minutes and hit 'em with sudden riddles
Among a hundred mental visual syllable intervals
Spun with iller slum scribbles
That come from minimal picked from minerals
Dug from outta the earth mountains of dirt.
Challenge my work and malice occurs
My callous inertias bound to disturb
Your balance and turn ya round and just serve ya.

My callous inertias bound to turn ya round and just serve ya, serve ya
My callous inertias bound to turn ya round and just serve ya, yeah.
I feel sorry for the MC that gotta rap after me.
I said:
I feel fuckin', I feel sorry for the MC that gotta rap after me.


Lyrics submitted by da2tha3

Mary-Kate & Ashley song meanings
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