Celph Titled - Extra Thug Sauce lyrics

Intro (Verse 1: Guttamouf) Yeah, haha, we a'int nothing buta psychotic mother f**ers in here I'm a equal opportunity cap buster White, black, Spanish, it don't matter Sixteen make you cough up your gall bladder Even if you a b**h, it means no different It doesn't matter if you wear bullet resistant I smack mother f**ers and leave barrel imprints I represent the mentally unstable Who usually end up dead or in jail While you get your coffin, I get lunch with Lucifer Had breakfast with the grim reaper Treat your body to a led diet If you don't shut the f** up and be quiet I'm God's gift to your mother f**ing photo Spit on your photo, sh** on your promo With me running around, get a bullet proof do-rag Portable IV and a mother f**ing sh** bag (Chorus: Celph Titled) Pull out the heat, it's about to get dirty No more rap sh**, just heavy artillery We the type of n***as that's quick to blow your mug off Serving mother f**ers beat downs with extra thug sauce Pull out the heat, it's about to get dirty No more rap sh**, just heavy artillery We the type of n***as that's quick to blow your mug off Serving mother f**ers beat downs with extra thug sauce (Verse 2: Majik Most) Ay yo, I'm coming to your city and I'll probably be Rolling with a posse that will eat a homeless woman's p**y While playing Pavarotti they'll be fishing your body Out of Lake Erie in Michigan With a Michelin tire wrapped around your midsection I'm stepping on your corpse with a quart of your blood All over my corduroys While I bring the noise and, strict nine and poisons Yeah, the type of sh** I spit will leave you hollow in side So mother f** rap cats who can't get live I'm kicking hardcore lyrics till the age of 85 Until I retire, I'm only getting nicer I'll slam your f**ing face down on a deli slicer You're crazy shook, rocking a Kevlar vest A bullet took your head off and left a little piece of your neck I need respect, I'm taking sh** higher Make you firearm backfire and light your arm on fire You stupid b**h (Chorus: Celph Titled) Pull out the heat, it's about to get dirty No more rap sh**, just heavy artillery We the type of n***as that's quick to blow your mug off Serving mother f**ers beat downs with extra thug sauce Pull out the heat, it's about to get dirty No more rap sh**, just heavy artillery We the type of n***as that's quick to blow your mug off Serving mother f**ers beat downs with extra thug sauce (Verse 3: Celph Titled) Watch how I run through your clique And straight k** every homeboy Y'all n***as softer than the Pillsbury doughboy f**ing f*ggot, you eat dick nuggets and love it Watching a Richard Simmons tape And jack off after you dub it Celph Titled is known to leave heads severally bleeding And keep crack heads on my block fiending If your rhymes are poisonous, I'll make you eat your words My gun talk money, imagine all the heat you could earn Record a joint with me featuring you getting beat the f** up In a sound booth with a busted mics in front of your f**ing wife Rocking prosthetic limbs, your crew copped the boot leg Call the police, you all shook daddy, n***a we two feds Ain't another spic realer than me I give a f** about hip hop, I'm just in it for cheese And if this music don't work, I'll just find another hustle You probably hate me for saying that sh** so I say f** you I kick rhymes on mad records just cause I can You wish to spit bars on vinyl, but you'll never have fans By the time you get a chance to have your first single out My discography is countless with six figure amounts The God Celph Titled, contested by no one n***as want to bring it, you can catch me at a show, dun f** that, son who, gun you, Look what I done to, young crews that tried to come through n***as owe me loot, they turn up like rafts and canoes I'm laughing at dude for thinking he as raw as my crew From the NY boroughs and alleys to Hillsborough County My name ring bells like free phone s** rallies The Rubix Cuban, unsolvable Shoot out the voice box of emcees and leave them inaudible An entrepreneur, your crew rocking my line of body bags In the Chrome Depot, we got shopping bags full of gats (Chorus: Celph Titled) Pull out the heat, it's about to get dirty No more rap sh**, just heavy artillery We the type of n***as that's quick to blow your mug off Serving mother f**ers beat downs with extra thug sauce Pull out the heat, it's about to get dirty No more rap sh**, just heavy artillery We the type of n***as that's quick to blow your mug off Serving mother f**ers beat downs with extra thug sauce