R.A. The Rugged Man - Tom Thum lyrics

[Verse 1] I got a big head and a fat ego I got the starving and hungry poverty superiority flow My pistol is old school cla**, I'm peeling your a** fast Yo, I'm uncontrollably gifted, I totally ripped it I'm vocally vicious Naming the best ever, I'm supposed to be listed Even if I'm emotionally and overly twisted and socially timid And every chick had left with a broken ovary when I hit it The fans follow me like disciples, I'm Charlton Heston Not the Moses version, I'm the gun toting version with the rifles Don't let them crabs gash you When I'm jacking a rapper and ripping the jacket And patching your a** and using a machete to smash you I'll rob anyone, anywhere, under the jacket, get the flame up Pull the gun out at your wedding while your grandma do the Macarena All these feminine rappers wanna see me dead and buried Too many rappers is drag-queened out; Tyler Perry Sick of the similar imitating I did it already the pitiful paid them The bigger the better to bait them You biting what I spitt'ed already verbatim I don't need to breathe when I rap, I got gills, f** lungs I'm like a superhero out of the toilet of the slums Come on [Hook] Every verse like a firearm Blasting ya I'm the greatest! You ain't sh** Compared to me [Verse 2] Shacking up for the night at the crib with a B-movie actress Shot gun next to the bed and the wad of cash under the mattress As a kid I wasn't into theatrics After school my daddy used to teach me combatative Green Beret tactics My flow natural, you artificial, beefed up Barry Bonds at BALCO Dope or dog food? I spit h**n, your rhymes are alpo I ain't into the tight jeans I'm into bar brawls, bra** knuckles, and bloody fight scenes The mainstream pussies ever give me props? No, nada That's like the Fox News giving props to Obama Wait, I teach the children in the world the word hate I eat p**y 'til every dyke on the Earth turn straight I'm disturbing with the grammar I'm more disturbing than the bombing of the baptist church in Birmingham, Alabama I've been repping I'll put a hit on any paper that my pen blessing I'm nice with the hands, each fist is a registered weapon I'll leave you forever resting I don't care if you're beefed up steroids or what you bench pressing I'm at the Best Western tossing your girl salad with some French dressing Hit you with a bat or a hatchet or the back of a ratchet My flow, ain't a rapper that match it Too much lyricism to digest , I do it on purpose Two of my bars is more lyrical than two of your verses Come on [Hook] [Outro] I tour the world You're at home with your momma I get a** Every night you get no a** s** my balls, and choke on my dick you b**h You ain't sh** Compared to me