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denace - what are you doing lyrics

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[intro]
i’m k!lling them all
i’m k!lling them all
i’m k!lling them all
i’m k!lling them all

[verse 1]
just the other day i got bit by a venomous
2 days later chuck norris died, call up the ambulance
tell em’ to stand by, tell em’ my franchise
is leaving them past fried, i’m living the fast life
f-ck a school, i’m doing my math right
15k this past month, 3k last night
that’s 14 more than my teachers period
ever made in a 4 week period, period
i’m k!lling them softly, they said i wouldn’t amount to sh-t
i guess i mounted a bit, maybe a mountain and sh-t
hold on, f-ck, i miscounted this grip
my counselors can bounce on a d-ck and suck ’til their tonsils get stripped
man, i hope they see this soon
cause a few years from noon, i’ll be doing the moonwalk
or better yet walking on the moon
with a f-cking parakeet singing my tune
call me a f-cking therapist, what the f-ck am i doing?

[hook x2]
what are you doing?
i’m k!llin’ ’em all
all these -sses lined up
man, i’m kickin’ ’em all
all these critics gettin’ mad
man, i’m tickin’ ’em off
they wanna point their finger at me
man, i’m fl!ckin’ ’em off

[verse 2]
i impress nothing less than a missile
let me address this issue, p-ssionate, i guess i’m next to diss you
tell luke skywalker you need a shirt that fits you
rip a mic, b-tch you couldn’t rip a tissue
so let me find out where the docs admit you
and i’ll be sure to stop by with some midol for your menstrual
“crushing me, i think p-ssionate has
but i don’t like little boys like this p-ssionate f-g”
is it parkinson’s or is this f-g having a seizure?
i can see through this phony, i don’t need to research
i don’t need to meet him to know he’s wack as sh-t
fact is, he’s mad as sh-t cause he tries too hard to rap and sh-t
and i don’t gotta try to rap a bit
there’s a slim chance that i’ll get grabbed a bit
but this fake canibus is just a f-ggot pr-ck
who thinks he’s a rap god, but he’s a bag of sh-t

[hook x2]
what are you doing?
i’m k!llin’ ’em all
all these -sses lined up
man, i’m kickin’ ’em all
all these critics gettin’ mad
man, i’m tickin’ ’em off
they wanna point their finger at me
man, i’m fl!ckin’ ’em off



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