[Intro] Yeah, Chelsea Clinton. Where you at bitch?
[Celph Titled speaking] Yeeeaaahhhh you monkey motherfuckers. This is Celph Titled, the motherfuckin' Trife-A-Saurus Rex. And I've got my motherfuckin nigga Majik Most. About to molest every female bitch in your fuckin family. You want more info? Dial 1-900-Get-Fucked-Up. For twenty-five stitches a minute. I don't give a fuck if you're handicapped. You talk that shit, I'll bust a handy cap in that ass. Yo, Majik, bust them in the head and leave 'em retarded. Bring that shit nigga!
[Majik Most]: Majik Most is here now, stop tryin' to rhyme Even your mom says you just wastin' your time I'll catch you in line as you apply for Medicaid And beat you in the skull with a prosthetic leg Majik's got it made all in-between your girls thighs Any tough guys get smashed and pulverized I'm off the hook like fish alibi's Why diss? It's high risk, try this, die quick in your whip With a windshield wiper through your iris You not feelin' this? I'll crush your grandmothers hip Then strip the emergency bracelet off her wrist I love to shoot the gift Man I rock a Santa suit when inside a vocal booth I'll blast you through the roof Just to show and prove Oh you still want beef? (ah ha ha) I'll bust your chops Fuck you up like a Cyclops In a weed spot with no eye drops Motherfuckers Hip hop is back (yeah yeah) But you're a faggot in drag Rockin' a dress That used to be your dads I'll choke you with your do-rag Slam you on a concrete slab Oh you mad?! Cause Majik Most is so dope, I whack kids Hijack the city bus with my man Dutch Massive Hit the strip club Celph and Ap got free passes Every verse I write, considered classic
[Apathy] A suplex Superman like a girl in a skirt Bury you in the dirt Rappers get placed in a world of hurt You tryin' to mack a dame but your game doesn't work You should feel lame and ashamed when you go home and jerk Cause I be havin' big titty bitches buying my shirt While you lurkin' in the bushes with a perverted smirk So jealous of the way I be ridin' the track You put your walkman on my rap And fantasize that you're Ap But I'll be shittin' on you nerd motherfuckers for fun Till I make you mad enough to come to school with a gun Beat you up until you cry and take your money for lunch They'll be mopping up your face by the twentieth punch You faggots get ghost Puttin' holes in the fabric of clothes My automatic blows metal through the back of your domes I'm mackin' your hoes Rapid flows that'll roast opponents Who play me close or battle with Majik Most
[Louis Logic] Stop a second and drop your weapon bitch (biiitch!) I meant to kill you back when the doctor stepped in And said your mom was pregnant Stomp the section of her stomach Where a baby doll sleeps Roast beef with both feet Wearing weighted golf cleats Leave behind a blood trail and a bottle of Seagram's Gin Covered in my bloody finger print and blame my evil twin But since I didn't see you there I'll burn your studio I'll fill you with warm slugs like you turned marsupial I'm like a savage bushman Chargin' through the outback I'll kick you in your asses cushion Whether with or without rap Whether with or without Ap, Celph or Majik Most I'll smash your nose And drag your ghost right out from your fractured bones I'll have your folks singin' church songs, dressed in black Your former fans only question asked is "Where has that herb gone?" I'll stab you Carve you with a sharp knife and tag you With bad news So you know my name and what have you
[Celph Titled] A lot of rappers gonna die this year and that's the truth And I'll probably end up responsible for a few Communication ain't a problem My guns speak all languages Gimme what I want Or be a dumb nigga, brainless! I'm the complete opposite with drug fiend chicks I know straight-edge bitches that'll smoke crack to suck my dick Floss through the hood and stack chips by the cases I've got more whips than a slave-master dominatrix I wont even do a cameo I get paid for my ad-libs Visit your girl and fuck her from her baby-back ribs You might as well go snow skiing or somethin' It's your only chance to rock ice without frontin' Throw a monkey wrench in your program Make you go ape shit Attach your head to a launching space ship Give you a face lift It's basic Bury your corpse under the basement I'm ill enough to start a drug war with the Jamaicans Don't make me have to pop your collar bone Put the silence on the chrome And let my Rottweilers roam Thirsty for blood Ready to shatter your brain I talk a lot of shit on records but I can back up my claims Motherfucker!
