How many songs son, how many songs?
Yo son, it's like... 15. Hehehe
"I dare a little punk to try to diss me
You wanna know why? Because... "
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"Because I spit on spectators"
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"To smash motherf*ckers to potatoes"
The microphone mutilater, I bruise your crew and neighbors
Do you dudes a favor, show you how to use a razor
(Are you a buddah blazer?)
Yes I get zooted major
And all you stupid haters, hit you with computer lasers
I got the smoothest flavor
Makin' moves, movin' makers
Off the roof, who's to save ya? (who's ya savior?)
Celph Titled the Rubix Ranger (player)
Stupid paper when I'm doin' capers
And what's inside this bazooka case will shoot a crater (ahhh)
In your screwface and doofus gaffers
My ruthless anger got animal-in-the-zoo behavior
Now who's the spayer? (hey)
Lose your body in a lake or tombs or chambers
Where you'll consume fumes and vapors (haha)
We mash f*cks like Super Potatoes
It's true we'll do fools in, bury them with the rutabagas
Sooner or later
Fine tuned parachuting invaders will tear through your Winnebago
Wearin' suits and aimin' aero fusion phasers (blam)
They talkin' mules and acres
I'm filmin' movies in Bermuda on a cruise to Jamaica (man)
I'm a front tooth eraser
You'se a booty shaker (uh huh)
And you'll be found in a pool with barracudas and gators
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"Because I spit on spectators"
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"To smash motherf*ckers to potatoes"
I'm too real I'll still will k**
No frills no gold grills hold still hooker/hoe "chill"
I know you smoke krills
You shouldn't till I throw you out mobile
(In Mobile Alabama)
In a pile of ants and pajamas
Surrounded by a thousand salamanders (what?)
I'm a bust a round of cannons off camouflaged as a satanic Santa Claus
Ain't another man that's raw, you should turn your cameras on
Cause I'm bringin' the blama sauce
The blicker oil
The trigger boilin' hot from firing shots, I'll spit it for you
I'll promise you that, ask mama who's back
The motherf*ckin' Montezuma of rap, hollerin' "Blaaaamp! "
And that's the way it goes down you fraudulent foe clown
I'm a put your skull in the dryer and watch it go round
"Oh my God! "
I'm salutin' one for y'all, no more shootin' guns at all
I'm boostin' the sun from God
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"Because I spit on spectators"
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"To smash motherf*ckers to potatoes"
So, so, so when I walk in a club with black jeans and a white tee
You're on a walkie talkie callin' security
"Hurry please... it's Celph and he came strapped"
Bringin' so much pain that, you can't get enough Novocaine packs
So insane in fact I was held captive
By unattractive cave women overdosed on Pro-Active
(Yo This That sh**!)
From the dynamite stick expert
With bottle rockets I flip with hotter objects of s**
And they flex in my bedroom
Legs spread, thick red head b**h, boom
With no freckles, she was actually
Have black/Icelandic
I might land this Spanish/Italian/French
Or whatever the f*ck airport they got (f*ck it)
At my mansion the size of a Marriott
Yes my rhymes are very hot
So where a vest cause when my CDs are pressed
They fly like Japanese ninja stars and they'll injure y'all
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"Because I spit on spectators"
"The microphone mutilater with the hardcore data"
"To smash motherf*ckers to potatoes"
"I dare a little punk to try to diss me"
I told y'all motherf*ckers. That's hardcore b**h n***as
You're not hardcore motherf*ckers. We buckwildin'. Yo Buck
You know you hardcore on this one. Hardcore tracks
Bring that sh** back, f*ck that, yo