Buckwild - The Celph Titled Show lyrics

[Verse 1] It's time to get wrapped up in my convo Pyrotec master, that's cause I'm the bomb though (yes) Off the coast of Costa Rica with two loaded heaters (man) A gangster b**h named Shareefa smoking loads of reefer (damn) Play Miami ba** loud you'll have broken speakers Play me you'll catch a seizure or an open-heart procedure boy Matter fact I got a habit that due to my habitat I'm pretty good at rapping raps about making clappers clap But that's besides the point man You can call my bat phone but your wack poems ain't part of my voice plan My waist band the size of asteroid belts b**hes on my Young Joc without Bad Boy's help I've been proclaimed propane My flow game went from eh okay to goddamn that boy's c**aine I keep the toast close, see me and you better shoot I love my nine like Busta Rhymes used to love them leather suits [Hook] This is the motherf**ing Celph Titled Show Don't touch that dial, we gonna be here for a while Demigodz in the house with my man Buckwild This is the motherf**ing Celph Titled Show Don't touch that dial, we gonna be here for a while Demigodz in the house with my man Buckwild [Verse 2] Forget everybody that did it, everybody that's done it Everybody that said they's gonna do it but fronted I did the math and homeboy it gets ridiculous I'm Three Times Dope like the kids from Acknickulous St. Nicholas bags of dough Ebenezer Scrooge attitude towards hoes Rearrange bones to a Soloflex torso I got more flows than a hundred Rakim clones wearing Rakim's clothes At award shows by the boatloads But they ain't the god, the R I used to pray to God I'd rap like the R But I like how I are, my favourite rappers by far is me Eso, B, and Apathy, the D-e-m-i-g-o-d-z for sheezy my neezys Manufacturing deadly pathogens packaging the ziti (Who's he?) Celph Titled's who the f** I be Werewolf show my teeth over Buckwild beats [Hook] [Verse 3] I'm the dark lord of the dark lore It's a suicide f** boy and I ain't talking about a car door (hell no) I get hardcore, yeah far more Shoot you with a rocket, hit you from a hundred yards or more The homing missiles is closing in Hard rappers that pose in Timbs get turned to the Olson twins I take your closest friend, throw 'em in a vulture den And toss them in a box with swords from Shoguns poking in (Damn) take no shorts, we flame torch Your face is scorched, yeah my mixtape take the blame for it Bait and tackle when I aim it at you Your b**h wanted nuts in her face so I gave the stupid ho' cashews My rhymes will outlast you I know you're soft, you're a p**y in a cat suit Blow, I'mma blast you Permanently tattooed, swing an axe to Split a soloist into a thirty-member rap group [Hook]