[1st Verse]
The f** do you expect of / a complete whack job?
Hannibal Lector, f**ing skull collector / crush you f**s like wrapper
Throw you in the crapper / flush it with derisive laughter
Devious ba*tard, jack off / don't even wash my hands after
Shake her hand, like: “Nice to meet you, Jessica”
Excuse me, but I knew I had to / come on you, right the sec I met 'cha
Back on topic, so what the f** would you expect of--
A recently released repeated child molester?
b**h, I'm back in the booth like rhymes'll cause a head rush
Light a fire, call me Flintstone, welcome to Bedrock
Put you in a headlock / looks like you could use a little pep talk
Well, go see a shrink cos I ain't here to catch ya
When you fall, I'm the one to push and wreck ya
Don't try to act tough / you limp soft pussies need to call for back-up
Doesn't matter, though, cos quantity's an irrelevant factor
Got the edge on / you cos of my intelligence- it really takes the edge off
Of any kind of threat that you could make / it's like bubbles in a bathtub
I could sit in it for days, eventually they'll go away / so save the trouble, man and just pack up!
Sick of playing games with you f**s, man, I'ma cut your head off / that's how I get off
My style is like a pit bull on the playground / once I bite there's no motherf**ing chance I'ma f**ing let off
[Hook x4]
It's f**ing A!
What more can I say?
[2nd Verse]
So what more can I say: heavy artillery
Nobody's ill as me / lose my temper fast as Bill Bixby
And ooh what a feeling, B / everytime I k** a beat
Nerves are f**ing raw / still, b**h, are you feeling me?
You will be, see / willingly or unwillingly
See I don't usually swa*k but I'm vigorous like Hilary
Awesome / see I've been this way at delivery
You might not be able to re-enact cos hoes refer to you as “Little Creep”
Cos you make ‘em feel ill at ease / yea' I lack in empathy / so pardon me for putting you in the pillory
Let me put you out your misery / point-blank shot to the face, to me the thrill is cheap
Silly me; forgot to take the safety off / can't help it, man, but this sh** is k**ing me
Get a grip, man, second try and I wield the piece / trust me this time indeed you will decease
Crowds running scared like some f**ing wildebeest
Leave you in the middle of the street cos nobody ‘round to spill the beans
People hear this bit and be like: “Are you kidding me with spitting these
Lines after Paris? Where's the sensitivity?”
Quickly reach the boiling point like a distillery / b**h you get the boot like motherf**ing Italy
All this time full of rhymes and you still can't see / that every motherf**ing single bit I did and will release
[Hook x4]
Is f**ing A!
What more can I say?