Fun N’ Games

歌詞

Hold up, bitch, I'm holding a four fifty You'll sure get your whole body throat sliv With a switch blade you'll get your whole throat slit You better watch your mouth because you know who I roll with I'm not talking about this rap shit, I'm talking about this gat shit When I see your soul, I'ma snatch it Fuck around and end up inside of a casket I'll brace them like Jason Voorhees with a hatchet Some people think I need some help, but I'm way past it Locked in a padded cell, screaming with a straight jacket I'm haunted by several spirits of dead poets I think I'm Edgar Allen Poe, but I don't know it So don't quote it, I'm not sure who even wrote it At three A.M. my hands become possessed, I can't control it It writes murder confessions from past times And subliminal messages that I hide inside my rhymes Hey man, why you talking so tough No, for real, you be playing too much And it's all fun and games until somebody goes nuts Until somebody gets stuck with my blade in they guts Did I fail to mention, I'm manic depressive, obsessive compulsive Psychotic man that craves attention with a Smith and Wesson Hit your chest and I'm hoping you learned your lesson Grab your vest and better count your blessings Because we're mid western, bitch you're in a western They call me John Wayne, shoot them up like Jesse James Insane in the brain, like my homies Cypress Hill Drugged out, thugged out, pop some pills, cock the still Shit, you want to ask me if this glock is real With just one pull of this trigger you're in hell and now you're out of here You're whole existence just disappeared Like Nostradamus I promise the end is near I thought it sounded just like comets through out the hemisphere It makes you vomit like gin and tonic or everclear Some people think I'm psychotic for talking to the mirror But I blame it on the narcotics that put me here Hey man, why you talking so tough No, for real, you be playing too much And it's all fun and games until somebody goes nuts Until somebody gets stuck with my blade in they guts