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X-Men stunting hoes on dat Molly call me Professor Xavier-SavageLand Shotcallah there holy savior-I make them spark then they feel the jubilee-I put them in my Gambit decc that’s why they stay true to me-but not really at all-they say they know me so raw-but I swear I don’t know them hoes at all-but they domain is my balls-I’m happy just to escape dem walls-who cares about crank calls-they tank and fall-that’s why them hoes stank to all-they claim that I like them but I don’t hang wit em at all-they try to hang on da balls-they need to try to hang on dem walls-fake Spiderwoman wanna be Blacc Widow Spiders-baccstabbers with no spy door set em on fire-when I spit Aqua Net-that blue sky is fallen-dey to chiccen for my Foxx Den-I’m they X-Men no Captain save a hoe hate em like they ex-men-I Morph on them and shift-they are the apple of my third blind eye I’m the Asiatic Chamelion-I blend thru the shade-I throw there way-and creep away-to a better way-where everythang-is straight no weird or strange-highways-that are lower then the nade-they say we gave him nath-but I laugh cuz I barely know your name-I don’t remember lames-nowadays-I tend to leave them in the old guttah drains-where I washed away-my strain of pain-in a Yakisoba then I fried it with my paste-and took it to the brain-burned them in bad memories-never to really ever mess with them silly hoes-trix are for rabbits-I be rabbit to quick on my toes-and done with that dejavu demo-I dropped that EP long lomg time ago-but them dumb hoes-didn’t even know-fucc dey colabo-they just trying to hard to spin with a globe-that really don’t like them cuz they shallow with no control-of they con artist soul-they kiss ass to people that don’t even roll-just the procedural gimmicks the formalities of a award show-the fake smiles the fake props-might as well be talking to stage props-they stay hot-but they not-them hoes look hot-but they cold and way off-from my spot-they were getting luke warmer but then not at all-they not in my Beehive of Killer Swarmers they just sting and die and fall-like a Honey Bee-to nutra sweet to be on my square C & H 126 Cubes in my pink box-I got to many like at Atlantic Square them baddies on me in pink floccs-Flymingo hoes-on throw-exchange them like clothes-that I outgrown-then go fit sum moe-come one come all-one size fits all-pussies all look the same inside ya’ll-better not beat it up raw-until the ice breaker thaw-when it’s more spicy-then wifey-until then tell em nighty nighty-sleep on me once-stay sleeping we done-it was only for they income-pimp and dip is the outcome-got ghost way before the how come-just a wild Wolverine Wilderbeast-surviving off pure real pure Lean-they almost had me in they web of extacy-but Molly came and rescued me-off to the place by the beach-where you could smell the blue sea-my paradise and retreat-no lingering of salty T-I-D-E-them past hoes looking like white sandcrabs digging so grumpy-mole crabs that can’t spy-black out they eyes- sand fleas-nigga please-this ain’t Darkwing-arch enemy-they see thru like Albuneidae-all bun and lame-with they all bunny gang-hop on and bounce to another Watership Down with dem I am not-they lie and they hog-greedy pigs with no trained thought-except on being T.H.O.T-“TRAMP HOES ON THRU”-you know you ain’t true-it’s funny when you don’t like dem hoes no matter who they are-they just ain’t worth the Blackcard-I wouldn’t kick it with them if I was Charlie Horse-and they was da def of black tar-Black Gypsy ain’t worth the needle marks-the tracks or scars-Original Trapstar from Da Park-can’t be no Clark-Lois I’m cool on dat Lane-I steer clear-with no fear-away from them while they steer with there rear-boring rudy pooh butts grow more lamer year by year-tell Goodyear-I’m blimping having a Hoodyear-don’t let the air out I got no time to flap my wings-so shut your thirst trap yellow belly canaries and sing-while your friendemys feeding you seeds-that won’t grow shit they could be-my Golden Coi’s from my loins-on Da Boyz-but no Golden Dragon’s will ever sprout wings-from them dead seeds-they can’t breathe-for hogging the live air like a tweeked out Radio Personality-that don’t sleep-on high speed-zoom zoom no crashing no sleep-only in they dreams-that’s when we could be-they DB-Dookie Bootys-that need a real good clean-they try to be mean-but they too NICE like Paris Night Life sight seeing-they a sore sight to percieve-they gonna be sorer once they learn how to read-they gave me brain like a True Blue Beast-they big body but to nerdy-on me-talk is cheap-so I guess they rich ass don’t say shit to me-but they know how to stalk me in my dreams-they know mental telepathy-but they brain a rental a throw away piece-like a cap named Jimmy on Dean-I’m a dancing purple Yahoo logo spinning the Google Chrome like the 1’s & 2’s so Lean-rapping down with the Bing-for years about ten of em-we been competing for search results on the web who can surf and hang ten & stay on-better then the rest of em-them fake ass bitches say I’m they Baby Boy I tell em go molest someone-they be juggling nuts with they mug-until they look like Juggernaut more like Juggernutts-living up to the name?or barely living with a Jane Doe for there name?-how they gonna be my Paypal with no I.D?-my special powers is freestylean-them hating ass hoes be weak styling-fake Mystiques-hating on da LunaTechniques-them Ravens ain’t welcome on my Edgar Allen Pole-I tell them freaks to kick rocks with a extra toe-they can’t be my Queen in this Chessgame-leaving they King stuck in a Pawns Game-with no Castling to protect my frame-I burn them on “The Island Of Demons”-with my hellish lil Hellboy semens-mad and hot because they won’t be breeding-I spit Neyaphlegm then teleport my mini me’s called Azazel-I make Grand Daddy Purple clocks from basil-then night crawl and creep away with Hazel-a.k.a Kalica Kid we “THE BEST OF THE WEST”-God’s Manifest-on a Forever Quest-is how we settle 4 less-call me Vandabilly the Kalico Kid on a Doc Hovercraft-blast em back to the past-from the future cancel they immortal pass-lock them up in my Toon Town in Roger Rabbit’s Frame-I be 2 Rabbit for them turtles in this hares race-speed it up like Tron when you advance in my game-I make the rhythm and beat and create the stage-like Professor X with my brain-double initials like M & M and S.S I taught Miss Grey-my craft like Black & White Magic paints-Secret Service Black Swan 27-flip them to Heaven-I’m 27 Socialites how I strike with my PeninsuL.A my ink da sea-I break it off like slanging on my Green IsL.And now the sides are 4 not 3-AtL.Antic in my backyard-put it like Atlantic Square on my Blackcard-I shapshift from a held down feathered Blackswan in tar- to a Eagle on the streets-no more clipped wings-what’s a clip full of wings if you ain’t gonna let it fly?-I turn Angels into Demons when I let the heat ride-the heatwave of demise-we Super Mario Feather fly-with a clip full of P-Wings aiming for the sky-we hustlean flip the Racoon Suit to the Feather from a green shell to red-honing in on the score-to fly blowing the Whistle on P-Wings as we soar-skipping levels drop King Koopa like the Devil-make Bowser bow down some more-to the hellish Nader Floor-I’m at least a Double Up Thug-I’m her ex man-more like her X-Men-twice the man of the best man-no wedding-throwing rice out the G-Ride window by the plenty-blessing the cars with almost gas tanks on empty-refuel em and send them down the freeway-send em to the highway with my free brain-no need 2 lie I been free mang-going on 5 years out the State Pen with leeway-so who’s winning this Street Game?-pass them scary hoes on geek lame-on to the next man-I’m they X-Men-Molly dropped them in her pot of fools gold-Pyrite Queens-that big pipe ride ween dings-may the real live truth be told-I live in my Studio getting Fugu blowed-spitting the realest shit I never wrote-to the truest shit I ever spoke-them hoes are hella weird I’m going against all odds-while they try to get even for me leaving on Da MOB-


Lyrics submitted by AllyGirl173

X-Men song meanings
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