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)