(feat. Celph Titled) [scratched:] "Lick my sweaty balls." [Verse 1: J-Zone] You better lock up the Bacardi at your party when the Zone roll through In a fur coat that look like I killed the whole Bronx Zoo ASPCA is outside my house, picketin' 'Cause everything in my coat been previously livin' Hoes ask why I cut my braids off (Trippin') So I could look prep and pull Kate Moss bitches But I don't make babies (No)...I make beats And got more juice than a hair salon in Compton in the late 80's [Verse 2: Celph Titled] Back on the muthafuckin' set, Zone pass me the glock So I can blast and leave a hole the size of Flava Flav's clock But either niggas hate or they jock, you pay 'till you're broke We from the hood, where we beat our kids with cables and ropes Load them hammers in the car before I bust back Crash a bike in your face, and leave you with a handlebar mustache Celph Titled fell off? What made you think that? I came here to downsize the game: no CD's, just "shrink wrap" [Verse 3: J-Zone] I used to bang groupies like your sister, but I quit it for sure "These girls are simply for the money" "And your sister's a whore!" Nowadays I diss hoes, wantin' Zone to get Olympic And strip clothes and broad jump with ten inches of limp dick But what about Zone and your mama? He threw his balls between her legs like he was playin' for the Globetrotters Thinkin' you rock? Y'all gets nothin' 'Cause I talk trash, you collect it like Charles S. Dutton, muthafucka! [Chorus: Celph Titled & J-Zone] Rude! Crude! Spoiled! Rotten! J-Zone and Celph Titled ain't nothin' but problems Throw eggs at your favorite MC Locate your face and then pee So if you don't like us, you can hum these nuts We put foes in they place and then leave [scratched:] "Rude...arrogant...entirely offensive" "Look out America, here we come!" [Verse 4: Celph Titled] I don't care what Biggie said, I still dream of fuckin' Xscape That big girl could find out, just how my third leg tastes I like my pockets fat, and my bitches fatter Up until I was ten, I thought my name was just "Little Bastard" (You little bastard!) Niggas rap to pay they bills, but never got cash Catch you at the bar, I'm puttin' bullets through your shot glass Knock your muthafuckin' Pro Tools off sequence Y'all niggas is like Dr. Dre in '83: all sequins [Verse 5: J-Zone] (Hey J, when's your video gonna be on TV?) When the surveillance tape from KFC gets sent to BET (J, I need my nails done) What? "Dumb broad" You'd have better luck at the White House, lookin' for a job With a Jheri curl and shower cap on Doin' a kid and play Kick Step with a crackhead on the front lawn In a "All Hail Saddam" T-shirt, holdin' two Glocks And C-Bo's Greatest Hits pumpin' from your boombox "Let's go...bump it, I know you hear me comin'" [Verse 6: Celph Titled] It's time to oil up my jaw bone, and get ready for slick talk O.G. swagger, that's the way this here spic walk About to unleash a sleek metal hatchet (Why?) 'Cause y'all sound faker than Alicia Keys' ghetto accent (Oh) Get snapped in fragments and fed to lab rabbits All I got is my balls, guns, and bad habits Keep you paranoid, become a crabby sleeper 'Cause I got you sniffin' more "'caine" than Big Daddy's retriever
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Copy to Clipboard: (feat. Celph Titled) [scratched:] "Lick my sweaty balls." [Verse 1: J-Zone] You better lock up the Bacardi at your party when the Zone roll through In a fur coat that look like I killed the whole Bronx Zoo ASPCA is outside my house, picketin' 'Cause everything in my coat been previously livin' Hoes ask why I cut my braids off (Trippin') So I could look prep and pull Kate Moss bitches But I don't make babies (No)...I make beats And got more juice than a hair salon in Compton in the late 80's [Verse 2: Celph Titled] Back on the muthafuckin' set, Zone pass me the glock So I can blast and leave a hole the size of Flava Flav's clock But either niggas hate or they jock, you pay 'till you're broke We from the hood, where we beat our kids with cables and ropes Load them hammers in the car before I bust back Crash a bike in your face, and leave you with a handlebar mustache Celph Titled fell off? What made you think that? I came here to downsize the game: no CD's, just "shrink wrap" [Verse 3: J-Zone] I used to bang groupies like your sister, but I quit it for sure "These girls are simply for the money" "And your sister's a whore!" Nowadays I diss hoes, wantin' Zone to get Olympic And strip clothes and broad jump with ten inches of limp dick But what about Zone and your mama? He threw his balls between her legs like he was playin' for the Globetrotters Thinkin' you rock? Y'all gets nothin' 'Cause I talk trash, you collect it like Charles S. Dutton, muthafucka! [Chorus: Celph Titled & J-Zone] Rude! Crude! Spoiled! Rotten! J-Zone and Celph Titled ain't nothin' but problems Throw eggs at your favorite MC Locate your face and then pee So if you don't like us, you can hum these nuts We put foes in they place and then leave [scratched:] "Rude...arrogant...entirely offensive" "Look out America, here we come!" [Verse 4: Celph Titled] I don't care what Biggie said, I still dream of fuckin' Xscape That big girl could find out, just how my third leg tastes I like my pockets fat, and my bitches fatter Up until I was ten, I thought my name was just "Little Bastard" (You little bastard!) Niggas rap to pay they bills, but never got cash Catch you at the bar, I'm puttin' bullets through your shot glass Knock your muthafuckin' Pro Tools off sequence Y'all niggas is like Dr. Dre in '83: all sequins [Verse 5: J-Zone] (Hey J, when's your video gonna be on TV?) When the surveillance tape from KFC gets sent to BET (J, I need my nails done) What? "Dumb broad" You'd have better luck at the White House, lookin' for a job With a Jheri curl and shower cap on Doin' a kid and play Kick Step with a crackhead on the front lawn In a "All Hail Saddam" T-shirt, holdin' two Glocks And C-Bo's Greatest Hits pumpin' from your boombox "Let's go...bump it, I know you hear me comin'" [Verse 6: Celph Titled] It's time to oil up my jaw bone, and get ready for slick talk O.G. swagger, that's the way this here spic walk About to unleash a sleek metal hatchet (Why?) 'Cause y'all sound faker than Alicia Keys' ghetto accent (Oh) Get snapped in fragments and fed to lab rabbits All I got is my balls, guns, and bad habits Keep you paranoid, become a crabby sleeper 'Cause I got you sniffin' more "'caine" than Big Daddy's retriever
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