[Intro]
|
Yo... yeah
|
Yo, yo
|
Ay, ay
|
|
[Mad Child]
|
Personality is weak like my batteries are beat
|
My reality is deep, my reality is bleak
|
Take them words and murder them like Jeffrey Dahmer on a beat
|
I've been glorifyin horrifyin drama on the street
|
Muscle of an engine block, runnin rubber scattered rocks
|
Bubble gum, soda pop, murder one, loaded Glock
|
Even though I'm motormouth, never been a chatterbox
|
"Total fuckin silence" photoshop motor cop
|
I'm being pulled into the middle of a vicious war
|
And I'm back to 0-0, the official score
|
Feelin trapped, like a leg lock figure-four
|
Feelin free, like a dreadlocked reggae boy
|
Devil's Night in Detroit, dig a shallow grave
|
Mad Child hate Christian Audigier and Alize
|
Bring back funk - roller skatin on a Saturday
|
Tribe Called Quest, know I'm never puttin that away
|
Picnics with your girlfriend, celebratin Halloween
|
Or go on a vacation to Hawaii with your family
|
Tired of all the tension, sick of the insanity
|
Smashin people and clashin personalities
|
Fashion sense is at an all-time low
|
Give the kids some room to breathe and let their small minds grow
|
Tryin to walk away from a life I lived a long time
|
It's gonna take some dedication and a strong mind
|
Strong will with great friends and a good vibe
|
I'm not judgin, I'm not sayin there's a good side
|
Just want to appreciate this fuckin life and have a good time
|
Write good rhymes, shit, smoke the good kind
|
Good book, that's a good look but it's not mine
|
But I am God's child and I do shine
|
People lappin up my lyrics like it's moonshine
|
Mad, when you movin to L.A.? Dog in due time
|
Bad mood tabooed tattooed preacher
|
Eyes like a racoon, nose like a vacuum
|
Act like a baboon, backroom speaker
|
Keep doin drugs, bad moves on the weekend
|
And keep on talkin like a classroom teacher
|
|
[Chorus: samples of Mad Child scratched]
|
"You don't wanna fuck with me, boy"
|
"Catalogue of carnage, I am armed to destroy"
|
"You don't wanna, you don't wanna"
|
"You don't wanna fuck with me, boy"
|
"You don't wanna fuck with me, boy"
|
"Catalogue of carnage, I am armed to destroy"
|
"You don't wanna, you don't wanna"
|
"... fuck with me, boy"
|
|
[Prevail]
|
Follow you to the parkade, sharp blade, "Dagger Mouth"
|
You can see the (Dragon Hide) the same time the (Tiger Crouch)
|
Firefighter engine house, backdraft master craft
|
Aircraft, life raft, rhymes from the rifle rack
|
Spit scripture Bible camp, campfire oil lamp
|
Lava lamp murder box, box office blockbuster
|
Chip off the old block, smoother than a stick of butter
|
Boxcutter ox blood swingin like the Red Sox
|
Don't fuck with Goldilocks, a head full of dreadlocks
|
That'll be a glass full of redrum and lava rocks
|
Lock and load, make lots of orphans then
|
make you walk the road, your name Viggo Mortensen
|
My mouth dry taut like chalk rock and porcelain
|
Cut you like a portion at Morton's, I'm nitroglycerin
|
Green Beret, night vision, Green Lantern light prism
|
Heightened fright exorcism, Battle Axe death division
|
Yeah!
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Outro: scratched to the end]
|
"Catalogue of carnage, I am armed to destroy"
|
"You don't wanna fuck with me, boy"
|
|
-----------------
|
Moonshine
|
Swollen Members |