[Verse 1: Twisted Insane]
Yeah... I'm that individual that you don't wanna see up on a full moon
Might turn into werewolf, sh** n***a it could be a nightmare if I go kookoo
Brain splatter on the floor, any minute I could whittle, yea I did it if a muthaf**a wolfin
I don't wanna here that "hold on, wait a minute, I just wanna talk" muthaf**a just take the a** whooping
Sick n***a, still on block with gangsta sh**
Stand outside with the heater on, go on a mission with a gangsta b**h
Up in the club with a gang of b**hes, you can act like I ain't the sh**
But don't be all up on me when I'm leaving with the homies
And you runnin through the door like you're chasing dick (Brainsick)
What's this...? like a n***a ain't big no more?
Comin through the door, doing different shows, f**in hoes, n***as on the road, I ain't lit no more?
Maybe cause a n***a don't spit slow-mo?
And you other n***as is this so-so?
Back up out my lane, 'fore I rip a n***a brain, get the f** up out my way, I ain't playing no more...
(Normal Voice:)
Hold up n***a, you trying to smoke up all the weed again n***a? (No..)
Aye, come in here with that sh** n***a
I-I'm-I swear you ain't gonna be doing this sh** to me again n***a. (A'ight)
You know what I mean, when I'm in this motherfuka tryin' to do my sh**
(A'ight, I got you) I just need a quick hit n***a before I go in
Alright, I'm back
Give me the weed I need to be before a n***a do my verse
Smoking it by the ton, I need a pound to fill my f**in hearse
Yea I play to win, I used to sit em when I play, watch the rays event
Different muthaf**as comin' every day to spend
I made so much money at the days-a end (Hehehe!)
[Hook]
(U-underground psycho) you don't really wanna tag on your toe
Imma leave em with a 44 mag to your ho
Leave you chopped up laying in a bag on the floor
(U-underground psycho) f** around you'll be losing your bread
Make a move, yo I go get the tools out the shed
I'm sick f**, I don't have screws in my head
(U-underground psycho) most of you rappers are whack with the bars
Better come correct, don't act like you're hard
Imma leave your body parts in the back of my yard
(U-underground psycho) no love for a punk or a b**h
Keep em in the basement or the trunk of my whip
Then when I'm done, you'll get dumped in a ditch...
[Verse 2: Twisted Insane]
D-d-d-d-different n***a, call it what you want to, I'm a f**in nut
Comin in wolfin disrespectful sh**, all these little n***as will f** you up
S-some of the n***as even might cut you up, and put you in the freezer with the chicken guts
Get ready for filleting I can open up his brain
I can here you people saying "this n***a nuts"...
When I get up ON IT and I really be up ON IT
I be pushing like a COMET I be feeling super SONIC
Kinda like I was BIONIC with the gin and f** a TONIC and I really go gorillas
Cause I was feeling super ON IT
To the muthaf**a wolfing till I make him taste the VOMIT
Then I bring em to the dark and then I make you feel it HAUNTED
And I feed em to the fish and make em meal up out the STOMACH
When I'm skidding past a muthaf**a like I work at SONIC
Wicked n***a, come from the era of the gangsta pimp
Won't be caught dead in skinny jeans b**hes still walk around with a gangsta limp
Half the new n***as is gangsta simps, better yet, not gangsta wimps
You better for realah and you better be a k**a
Before you run up on gorillas, blood, I ain't a chimp
Psy-Psy-Psycho n***a, living up over the edge head full of steam
I'm from Diego California where these n***as run up on ya, turn your face into bologna at the pull of green
Yea I'mma shoot em when I'm murdering a witch n***a, when I catch 'em, wouldn't wanna be a b**h n***a
I couldn't give a mad f** about a president that's still a b**h in person that'll run up on a rich n***a
[Hook]
(U-underground psycho) you don't really wanna tag on your toe
Imma leave em with a 44 mag to your ho
Leave you chopped up laying in a bag on the floor
(U-underground psycho) f** around you'll be losing your bread
Make a move, yo I go get the tools out the shed
I'm sick f**, I don't have screws in my head
(U-underground psycho) most of you rappers are whack with the bars
Better come correct, don't act like you're hard
Imma leave your body parts in the back of my yard
(U-underground psycho) no love for a punk or a b**h
Keep em in the basement or the trunk of my whip
Then when I'm done, you'll get dumped in a ditch...
[Verse 3: C-Mob]
P-P-Pedal to the metal, man I never half a** sh**
On another level, spittin' that acid
Give them that package, then I act savage
You are not a rapper you are just a whack actress
Radio rappers are quicker to slaughter
I Feel like I'm givin this dick to your daughter
f**in em till it gets thicker that water
Lyrically castrating rappers, so we probably on one
You don't wanna see me get loco you are not OG Bobby Johnson
They're telling me I'm sort of crazy
I'd say the odds are more than maybe
k**in off gold diggers can't afford a lady
Imma leave em in the trash like aborted babies
Sick of the trickery tricks'll be history quickly if you be f**in with me
Triggers be flickering whistling wickedly sickening it'll be something to see
Layin in the back of a seven-eleven send you up to heaven, ascended to pearly gates
Scalping a mothaf**a like a Native American, instead of a tomahawk I'm using a 38
Sicker than syphilis, twisted like licorice
Gifted with wickedness, b**hes and mistresses
Lifted like Icarus, this is ridiculous
Chris is meticulous with the word reminisce
Dropping pipe bombs in your chimney on Christ-I-mas
Like a sadomasochistic Saint Nicholas
Twisted Insane and C-Mob are comin' through your neighborhood tearing sh** up we're so sick with this...
[Hook]
(U-underground psycho) do you really wanna tag on your toe
Imma leave em with a 44 mag to your ho
Leave you chopped up laying in a bag on the floor
(U-underground psycho) f** around you'll be losing your brain
Make a move, yo I go get the tools out the shed
I'm sick f**, couple loose screws in my head
(U-underground psycho) most of these rappers are wack with the bars
Better come correct, don't act like you're hard
Imma leave your body parts in the back of my yard
(U-underground psycho) no love for a punk or a b**h
Keep em in the basement or the trunk of my whip
Then when I'm done, you'll get dumped in a ditch...