Lyrics:
Portrait of a killer
The first suspect: the mind of Jeffrey Dahmer
Entered the scene and caused drama
Born in Milwaukee in 1960
As a child, studied
Bleeding Heart music and lyrics by Jeffrey Robert Adams
1991, 2021 Jeffrey Robert
shakin'
Fosho
Now i'm 'pose to be proud
And i'm proud
Go
Go
Go
I call my young nigga my thug
Still ain't home like he Jeffrey (Go)
You callin' my phone I
it's Free Jeffrey till it flip to Jeffrey Free
Motivated me to be a voice in the streets
Yes I learned from Malcolm, bihh I also learned from King
Come
Uh, uh, yo, yo, yo, yo, uh
Me and Dos, been doing the most
We had to shake and bake in the streets late
And then we partake on the finest weed
(that's right!)
Put it down for the streets (that's right!)
[Chorus]
(WHO-DI-WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!)
Pass that dutch, pass that dutch
Pass that dutch, pass
for the streets (that's right!)
(WHO-DI-WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!)
Pass that dutch, pass that dutch
Pass that dutch, pass that dutch, pass that dutch
Come
Well you know you've got the nitty gritty
And jimmy's got his drums along
Then Jeffrey and me and bobby will be
Singing all our favorite songs
stay move the streets
Rebels and warriors all ova the globe
Find their souls to the rockin feet
Maybe to me that's more than money
Better than anything I
like four corner blocks
I'm the bird man, I never chipped off the top
I'm switch-handed, when I'm swingin' I'm landin'
I thug on the street and I thug
go platinum"
They seen it for sure, I know that Afeni Shakur
Don't enjoy Jeffrey Atkins reenacting her boy
So I'm click-clackin' this toy, mash
wrapped and stitched
The Jeffrey Dahmer Notre Damer sing the song the strongest
Brute force bullethole straight through your chorus
Shank you with
in the streets, you tellin' (Skrrt)
Don't run, don't run
Make it home to my son (To my son)
I be with killers who kill other killers
I'm hangin'
that's right|Shake your ass till it stink, that's right|Mr. Mo's on the beat, that's right|Put it down for the streets, that's right||Pass that dutch, pass
C'est la fin des haricots poto faut débiter
Bien porter ses guibolles
C'est la danse des ssistes-gro, la
Street sous six étoiles
Pistés par l'hélico
the Nitty Gritty
And Jimmy's got his drums along
Then Jeffrey and me and Bobby will be
Singing all our favorite songs
Catch the fire from the folks in
to get my drink (That's right)
Shake ya ass till it stink (That's right)
Mr mos' on the beat (That's right)
Put it down for the streets (That's right)
'Cause I'm a street genius
With a unique penis
Got fly chicks on my dick
That don't even speak English
I'm makin' ducks shed much tears
I buck queers i
Pimp shit, ay
Llouis
Dresscode hella dirty, Augenfarbe Nikotin
Booste meinen Bass und lauf' bei Nacht durch deine street
Treff' dein Shawty, doch die
streets
Made in the east
Round here we don't know about love, all we know is deceit
Two extremes, Starve or feast
But one day we gon make it out of these
i just might make bond
release me on my own
???? bak on the streets
with no employment
no doubt
without no cheese up in my pocket
tell me how
I always have my brain waves in tune with the streets
For these dudes that continue to keep
Them tools under the seats
Try to bring the heat
Madison Travelin’, Michigan-Visitin’
Roosevelt-Rollin’, Home and Roamin’
Halstead Walkin’, Jeffrey’s-Joggin’
Yes these problems, didn’t you know? (echo)
people
New Orleans refugee like Wyclef people
My street eagle and nigga watch your ego
Cause if you think you too fly
Then I shoot down that eagle
And then
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