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d12 - census bureau lyrics

[intro: kon artis]
yeah, we straight from the census bureau
haha, runyan ave
we lookin for yo’ momma
d-12 – where yo’ momma at?
miko � where yo’ momma at?
young zee, hey dame – where yo’ momma at?
i wanna f-ck that b-tch, her stankin -ss
hey em where yo’ momma at? (ohhhh-ohhhhh)
yo.

[kon artis]
you know me, denaun the same ol’ n-gg-
i spray paint your car up like rain-o n-gg-
see me and you are sorta like the same i guess
we both rock mics but yours is into our chest
you can’t do nuttin to me, runyan ave’s unruly
and truly this ain’t a movie, you get slapped with the tooly
so p-ss the slimmy and the hennessy, i got the energy
to steal every car in this vicinity, you feelin me?
take it back to when das efx was sayin niggity-wiggity-wild
piggity-pow, n-gg- be out
you don’t really want war, i’m chillin at your door
this uzi will have you bl–dy windmill-ing on the floor
i can’t be a punk, my daddy wasn’t none
i lose a fight after school and i came home and got one
you reap what you sew, that sh-t you oughta know
i keep it on the flo’ under the seat � i ain’t a hoe!

[chorus: kuniva] + (kon artis)
you know it’s been a while but we feelin it now
(the rough sound muh’f-cker, n-gg-z killin it now)
godd-mn! you don’t want no problems b
(get your name in the obituary column sheet)
it’s that same ol’ sh-t, n-gg-z back again
(yo yo, you fallin off, goin back to smokin crack again)
hit the weed (guzzle your corona) p-ss the gin
(better duck cause they back bustin gats again)

[swifty]
a basket case indeed; stronger than a can of mace
slap you in the face while you patty-cakin witcha seed
i’ll be makin all these n-gg-z wanna take a beam
and put it right on my head
you don’t be takin heed, you probably idol the feds
havin meetings to recite what i said
liable to have you in a medical room
walk in that b-tch with a cell phone then turn it on
“you fittin to die holmes!” {-explosion-}
got a chrome that be f-ckin up sh-t worse than i
you would swear that i’m a gemini
i kill a guy for nothin – eye to eye
and i ain’t gotta touch them n-gg-z face soon as i say somethin
got a pump that’ll tear your arm quick, when i leave a carc-ss
you would think you in death row’s office (ahh!) {-gun clicks-}
(hang a n-gg-!) i’m ill enough to fall in the middle of moshpits
survive and i’m gettin up high without a flaw b-tch!

[chorus]

[proof]
i’m a dog on the mic that’ll brawl out with christ
get to cappin at your captain ’til he fall outta life
i’m all outta nice, n-gg- tuck your chain
put holes in your head and finger-f-ck your brain
fool f-ck this game, i’m poppin at coach
momma dropped me on my head and knew that somethin was broke
i ain’t feelin nothin you wrote so i’m stompin your throat
show up at the hospital and start punchin your folks
i’m a uzi with arms and legs
duty calm your man, before my tooly bomb his head (what!)
you wanna take what my 40-cal since you b-tch-made
spittin the right game so yo’ -ss can get laid
the f-ck down, i don’t give a f-ck now, wh-ssup?
talkin bout “clappin” – quit actin, you barely bust nuts
don’t get it twisted at the gates, the name is proof
and i’ma kill every man that came with you

[bizarre]
yeah, yeah � knock knock! guess who showed up?
44-mag and tear your whole door up
pink shower cap and, yellow drawers
my d-ck’s so small, i can pee on my own b-lls (hahaha)
when it comes to p-ssy, bizarre goes to work
that’s why my mouth smell like hot dogs and yellow persh (eww!)
so tell your momma hit me on my cell phone
i ain’t home, i’m so wet gettin stoned with norah jones

[chorus]

[kuniva]
yo, i chuck n-gg-z daily, a six-man crew that’s born crazy
a triple o.g. like tray deee (whattup loc?)
i stay sparkin, b-tch i got a att-tude
i step on your shoes and won’t say pardon – be cautious!
hidin from the one-time, nutty as i wanna be
wild and disorderly, p-ssin on your toilet seat
n-gg- now you know it’s me, i got a .44 wit me
b-tches all over me, +sayin yes+ like floetry
homie you wanna be a g? go toe-to-toe wit me
it ain’t no hoe in me dawg, i shoot out where your colons be
wave the people-mover, crowd-controller
rob n-gg-z ’til my pockets look greener than yoda
and you know that i’m the +shady+ type, the crazy type
that’s probably why promoters never pay me right
we a bunch of hooligans, my hands is on the tool again
i’m bout to bust a huey and spray up a f-ckin school again

[chorus]

[outro: bizarre]
yeah. d-12.
devil’s night. part two.
the drama. continues.
kayslay. hahahaha.

- d12 lyrics

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