Lyrics:
die genocide the cause
Expect a blood bath
The aftermath is y'alls
I told ya last album, we need help cause we dying
Give us a chance, help us
bring? Nothin' but pain and one in your fuckin' brain
Ain't nothin' changed since the album, I'm still wildin'
I'm still violent I've been waitin' for
decorations breaking up the neutral paint on the walls
The sleeve of a 60s album pressed in Waco is sung by the addicts, straight out of AA
A 3D Buddha scene
And if this doesn't convince you that MUSIC
causes BIG TROUBLE...then maybe I should turn off my plastic' megaphone and
sing the last song on the album
But your albums trash from the skit to the covers
I tear the plastic off and use it for a rubber (I'm)
(L) I'm the G.O.A.T. I just ball a lot (L)
classic shit
I like to ride around with a plastic fifth
I love to melt ya
I love them underground S-Q albums
Haters love to get you twisted
But I love
I've got a window at the foot of my bed
Sometimes i pull the blinds open by the sill i rest by head
Cause I found the stars and constellations seem
mattress through the roof
This for my niggas getting brown paper bag money
This for my strippers getting black plastic bag money
We're talking that bad
by?
Me and you without lies, lets roll the dice
One talk to end all of our fights
Be ready my secrets, darker than your heartless cries
Would you even
might need a little time for concentration
Only hang with stars
So my whole gang can form a constellation
Growing up
I never got no prize for no
The last anyone heard of Mudoc Niccals
He was living on Plastic Beach
An island in the South Pacific
Formed entirely from rubbish
All was well
Until
brown paper bag money
This for my strippers getting black plastic bag money
We're talking that bad money, that I.R.S can tax money you dig me
[Rick
nuts, then I (yeah)
Check my ball hair (what?), make sure it's all there (yeah)
Then call the pallbearer (yeah)
It's Music to Be Murdered By again, why
lie on you not to return the favor so
I won't get you embarrassed
I won't tell them all the other parts about you that's plastic
This my last time
They sell posters of girls washing cars and unicorns and stars
Guns and roses album covers
They've got most of the barney dvds coffee mugs and tee's
spend that shit
Invest it in some real estate
Put the money offshore
Sneak it out the back door
Meet me at the drugstore
Two albums dropped
Guess that was
away instead of night terrors
Lately I've been dialed in like 911 by white parents
Shot a project in Sina I almost died during
Album on the way with no
Out in every states and they all know my name
Weeks of being surrounded
But I've never felt so lonely
Everybody cares around me
The album out, deep
killing the game, and lately I've felt inadequate
So I took hip hop by the throat so I can have my own stab at it
I wish before sleep I could think about
Random!
Everybody on my team is winners
Everybody on your team beginners
Why you do that, rapper? Fucking new-jack rappers
Flinch when I walk by cause I
bastards
With my ski mask
I'm the first one to want him blasted
Wrapped in plastic
Bullshittin' got his ass hit (Outlawz)
Ain't nothing left now
Treated like
under the mats, cracked wrapped in plastic
Triple beam, be -12, and seran wrap, money rubberband wrapped
Second album goes gold they can't stand that
some things, get it by any means
I disappear then reappear with a new scheme
I got fans now, I got fans down
Who can't wait till the album's out
I
look good
Those a hundred proof nigga tell you different, he a liar
Drop 1 album, set the world on fire
I will not stop and I wont retire
You niggas
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