BC - End lyrics

I'm always paranoided out Plan a route, and rap and shout Can't control what's in my mouth And I spit it out like sauerkraut They want me planning back accounts But f** that, I'm not going out I'm pacing, racing faces through my cranium And now I'm blatantly facing an erasing of my own latent patience So I better brace it Look at this, he's really doing this I'm cuing it, he's going all ludacris Even though he's like a high schooler's crucifix He's the Vladimir Putin of hit and miss Fitting in with bigger kids When alone, he's throwing fits and then He pillages villages for Ritalin Before he starts pitching in rhythms for the children Militantly k**ing windowsills that he still is in You were always in the danger And that's why we're bigger strangers You're always paranoided out You can't be loud, you're raining out Can't control what's in your mouth But you're going down like power out I'm dope up in this powerhouse I've gotta get this show on now He's as unfitted to the situation As a critic to the tinted window where he's tapping pistol Get a whiff of this, he's dangerous Took a couple steps to get the hang of this Now he's in the heavens where the angels is A big fan of his own panorama From Atlanta to the Alabama to the Cosmogramma Rhymes like ceramic, cannot even stand to see him aging Like bananas, can't ya? sh** was happening Harder than the caps of knees And he slipped through the authorities like some fingers in some Vaseline They're never pa**ing me Apparently got a pa**ion for catastrophe So it's a guarantee That they're be blown to Tatooine If they ha**le me Vision's clear but there's a stain in the gla** He's like Max Payne, he always lives in the past That's why he's always reminiscing in his cla** It was quite bizarre how he ever managed to pa** But alas, his little life was flat 'fore he had the mic to grasp And the peers hara**ed And then they saw the wealth he stashed Took some notes from the villain with the mask And that's how he spits like that Always brash and taking couple sippies from his silver flask And leaving 'em in caskets Close to blowing gasket But he writes another racket And his case is a basket one Never done He'll go out with the solar sun His life has only just begun He'll spit off like a Gatling gun Until his wallet weighs a ton And his music is reciprocal of physical A frontier in the digital The day he's meddling is the day of reckoning Questioning anything deafening coming from the local TV screens Where his face is settling And if you touch me, it's a felony As much taste as some celery And they're filled with jealousy At the overflowing zealotry Coming from the one supreme I make 'em paranoided out Make a sound, they chant and shout Can't control what's in their mouth And they spit it out like sauerkraut They're filling up my bank account The audience is going loud They're blazing, raisin' fists in the stadium And now they're blatantly facing an erasing of their own Crazed sensation So I better face them Look at this, I'm really doing this I'm cuing it, I'm going all ludacris