(Prozak)
Guess who's back in the drivers seat mother f**er once again
Its the B-to the E-to the D-to the L-to the A-to the M
We kickin down your doors, world war, settlin scores
Felons in this b**h, burnin down wicked tracks forever more
You all are whack, you need to be slapped, actin like f*gs
Collaborate with anybody just to do a track
How many shows have you done? Where are you b**hes from?
Why is it every time you f**in see us, you run?
We tellin me sh** like, "Can we open up? Even though we f**in s**?"
"Would you like to f** my girlfriend? She's a Bedlamite s*ut"
No love for these psycho b**hes with AOL's
This is for the real Bedlamites, the rest of ya'll can go to hell
I'm in the streets, been payin dues, with nothin to lose
Chillin with so many crews that never played by the rules
From beginning to end, this wicked sh** is Michigan
Sorry if this destroys the fantasy world that you livin in
s** our dicks b**hes s** or choose b**hes
Bite our style b**hes we write our rhymes b**hes
Player haters b**hes keep talkin sh** b**hes
Nowadays everybody is a wicked rapper
(Madness)
We write some bite some now we in a fight
Beat the f** out your mother now she's pleading for her life
Have her neck in my hands, I'm doin it for the fans
Ropes on her ankles, upside down, blood drippin keg stands
I'm at your job, you ain't real in the wicked sh**
Carvin redruM on your car with an icepick
Anybody dissin Bedlam, die!, better come correct
Travel to your town and shut your family up to gain respect
Rap is for the livin see my face why'd you mean that?
Toppin the hat with my crew of k**as known as Bedlamites
The voice of a dead man livin in the matrix
Wicked sh** ain't free, you big wannabe b**hes
You're just a clone, on the keyboard all alone
I'm pointin souls at your screen, sayin die on your microphones
Copy you up ona dubbed DNA disc
Burst in the background its time for us be playin in the hurse
SHOCK TREATMENT(4x)
k** em(32x)
Nowadays everybody is a wicked rapper