Seven on the beat
Kansas City, motherf**face (word)
See I don't wear those trendy-a** dunks anymore, or them dumb-a** Bathing Ape hoodies
You know what, man? This is not an independent rap beat, can you tell?
Listen to that ba**. (Rhymesayers entertainment)
It's gonna flip your car over
What I want you to do is, uh-
Tell your grandmother to stop b**hing, load your bong up, take a fat-a** hit right now
Good evening, I've arrived to clean your pill drawer out
And talk to birds like Kilgore Trout
I shout out loud
I think that most these rappers out are probably into guys actually
'Cause they want five mics, I'd rather have five Mallories
When I write unraveled violent shades of quite contagious psycho babble
Hit me with a big steel shovel
Dig me in the white stone gravel
At the live show frazzled
Provoke the ravenous mischief the counter rhythms are rowdy
But f** these rappers, they're b**hes
Cops come with their sirens like 'wee-oo, wee-oo'
I'm too illegal with the ink pen
Push or click over like somebody's trying to beep in
Everyday is Saturday so baby hit the snooze bu*ton, let's sleep in
I say I'm selfish but they never listen
So I took 'em Christmas shopping and I bought myself a television
Better find the troll up hold up got a clever line to pull up
Johnny Rotten popped an Oxycontin, nevermind the bullocks, oh!
Live up in your city I'm about to steal the show
These people disagree but I don't listen to 'em though
I'll never do a stupid dance up in my video
I'm perfectly content with being crazy
(x2)
I received an e-mail from the president of a Nigerian bank
It said he had a hundred thousand dollars for me (Thanks!)
I can now invent my engine for the hard shell truth served
In the barbell-brute version of Marcel Proust words in a capsule
Attacking the vocabulary kingdom, see not everybody's cool
I got the swagger of a penguin
What you're seein is a dirty splash of Kansas City Eurotrash
Your surly-a** uncle, counting dirty cash
Cops pull me over with their sirens like 'wee-oo, wee-oo'
I'm driving drunk like it's the weekend
Boy I gives a f**, me and the homie Al Swearengen chill, brandy I'll swill, taking synthetic h**n pills
I lo-lo-love the taste of hops and malted barley and beer
It makes me wanna bite who's on stage like Carlos Mencia
But I don't steal, I've had a charming career
So bring your armor and gear
Because the dope style harbingers here
Oh!
Live up in your city I'm about to steal the show
These people disagree but I don't listen to 'em though
I'll never do a stupid dance up in my video
I'm perfectly content with being crazy
(x2)
Buy me a drink I've got some craziness to k**
People spreading rumors, they ain't saying sh** for real
Kansas City motherf**er, full of dangerous sk**
I'm perfectly content with being crazy (Hell yeah)
(x2)