Mike E. Clark - 85 Bucks an Hour lyrics

(Violent J) Chillin' at the studio... Chillin at the studio 85 bucks an hour Ao hurry up and loop a beat Mike Come on! Uh, Uh, Uh I'm Violent J but my homies call me sh**head But that's my homies, to you I'm Violent J b**h I put my boys on a track even though they s** (Dave) Yo dawg, I'm Dave and I don't give a f** (Violent J) I did a record deal, I signed a contract Technically, for Island I can only rap Well f** that, with Twiztid I'mma still spit Even though I got a cold and I sound like sh** What the f** was that? f** it, leave it in, that sh** is phat You heard this beat eighty times I'mma still freak it And if you notice, my sh** don't even rhyme... Look at that. I ain't even got a rap and it's still phat My sh** went gold, I got fat knots And you're still flyer'in parking lots You might say my vocals are up too loud So I'mma turn 'em up louder to piss you off! Psychopathic Records are geniuses, get off our penises Here comes the chorus, but I got no hook Instead I'll just f** with the phone book (Music cuts. Phone rings, a guy picks up) Hello? (Slim an*s) Yeah uh, Harry Sacks Please? (Guy) Who is this? (Slim an*s) Uh Harry, hey this is Slim an*s down at the cannery Uh, Dick Shooter left a bulletin, something about, uh You filling in his slot tonight down at the, uh, garage We got a casement of fudge. We need as many packers as we Can get, uh uh Sacks (Guy) ...Hello? (Music Starts) Uh Uh (Jamie Maddrox) My name is Jamie Maddrox and I got fat balls I'm always urinating in the motel halls I got a big head that never fits a hat So you ain't see me wearing a damn thing green b**h I'm far from rich, I gotta hoopty With a smash in the fender, and in the back too I gotta a broken tail light and I'll smash you b**h, get outta my way. We got clown love Fat props to the lyrical Tom Dub (Monoxide Child) It's the M-O-N-O, and I can't even spell the rest It takes too long and I need a f**in' cigarette I can't hear, my right ear's mad wack So shut the f** up and listen or get an a** kickin' I slap hoes and call them b**hes to thier face And scream "Now f** off b**h, Twiztid in the place" So back up, recognize and check nuts Cause simply my dear, I don't give a f**! (Music cuts. Phone rings, a guy picks up) Psychopathic (Mo' Styles) Yo, this is Mo' Styles in this piece, what's up son? (Guy) Hello? (Mo' Styles) Yeah, what's up son? I'm lookin' fo this deal You know what I'm sayin'? I Got raps to bust fo y'all. Y'all ready fo Mo' Styles? I'm 'bout to kick this flow, y'all ready fo this sh** or what? (Guy) Who's this? (Mo' Styles) Word up son. I'm Mo' Styles, I'm straight from the hood I got all my peoples on 1-800 Crenshaw. We comin' hard (Music Starts) Bring it, bring it, bring it (Shaggy 2 Dope) My names 2 Dope, and sometimes Shaggy Sometimes Shags, and sometimes Gweedy I get mad stupid, I gets mad ill Locked down in all five, f** it, I do this still Stretch my nuts back like a slingshot and plant 'em in your mouth Shake my hips like Elvis, wiggling my pelvis Last kid that stepped I applied a Camel Clutch and stretched his back like Motherf**in' bungee jump WAAAAAAH! (Music Cuts to Violent J) I'm Violent J back to make you smile more I let my nutsack drag on the tile floor I kick free styles, for miles My gold comes in piles, I worked on Belle Isle... I picked up deer sh**, and now I spit raps... I snap your neck... Cause my freestyles are fresh... (Door Opens, closes)