Geto Boys - f** 'Em lyrics

(CHORUS) "f** em, fu-fu-f** f** em all" "I bury those co*kroaches" "What'd they ever do for us?" "I bury those co*kroaches" "f** you man!" [Willie D] I gotta bone to pick cause I'm sick Of you motherf**ers talkin sh** We pick you up, you put us down and I'm mad Time to talk about your dog a** [Scarface] Jealous motherf**ers its seems wanna try the Ak' "How do you do em?" f** em up like a cardiac So if your curious get a blood donor Cause I'mma f** you up so bad, that you're momma won't know ya I pity the fool who diss the mastermind of wreckin sh** Now let me tell ya somethin b**h Get yaself a headstone and a box of pine Cause when I catch up with ya, ya a** is mine The line is drawn word is bond The motherf**ers who crossed it are dead and gone Punk motherf**ers gon s** a dick Bushwick, "Yeah money" what you think about this bullsh**? [Bushwick Bill] f** those unknown motherf**ers With a 10 foot pole that can't touch us Before the Geto Boys came around You can't front their clout, H-town was no town Yeah we know you still skeptic Cause we ain't kissin no God damn a** to be accepted And if you're waitin on that to happen s**a You'll be a waitin motherf**er sh** outta luck, stuck and got f**ed Fo's up to those who down with us And to you other mothaf**as in the atmosphere I'm sayin f** you loud and clear (CHORUS) [Bushwick Bill] Radios, newspapers, TVs Spreadin lies across the seven seas Many people thought we couldn't endure n***as are buyin now they ain't so sure Billboard has us check out our status I don't understand you hoes, whats the matter [Willie D] The motherf**ers are sick Constipated, col' fulla sh** They tried to keep us off the market Straight up ho sh**, they had to stock it My back don't pack no monkeys Cause I kick mo' a** than a donkey I gotta pump but I will jump Yous a punk or a one on one ya run to the trunk If you're motherf**in feet fits the shoe I'm Willie D and I came to say, f** you! f** you has been stated by the underground master Show me a high-siddity b**h and I'll thrash her f** you is what ourselves should do And spit on ya nasty a** when I'm through You don't like me, cause what ya see is a figure I'm a for real a** n***a I won't iron your clothes or pay rent at your place There ain't a damn thing baby about my face [Bushwick Bill] The whole faculty's on crack You say I can't wear my hat, but yo, f** that You call yourself teacher, but whats bein taught? How to f** kids and not get caught? How can your teacher reach ya Their too busy in the halls tryin to f** the other teacher Bushwick Bill (?some Jamaican i imagine?) [Ready Red] f** the motherf**in critics, f** newspapers f** the radio stations And f** your parents against rap We buried ya f**in co*kroaches [Willie D] To every motherf**er who diss my crew I'm sayin f** you, now what you hoes wanna do? I gotta arsenal in my Blazer for instance Some sh** that'll shake the ground so keep ya distance Parents confiscate my tapes Sendin letters and sh** talkin bout how they hate The album Controversy's they're rebellin I don't give a f** cause the sh**s still sellin So this is how the D'll respond I'mma cuss my a** off for your daughters and sons And if you don't like it spouse You can s** my dick until your lips fall off I've had it up to here with this bullsh** To each I preach without a pulpit Pause I don't do, nails I don't chew Whenever I fix my mouth to say, fu*k YOU "I Bury those co*kroaches"