mastamiind - fuck rap! (freestyle) lyrics
[verse]
the off the line, border, holder of swords
from the golden doors
unfold and boast, with a bunch of morals, of gore
formal horrid immortal model to boys and girls
that i can rap a cr-ppy chorus
still you can played as i move forward like a shuffle board
i deeply dump these dumb f-ckers under water
like they permanently snorkel
i’ll never change, you can’t give me a quarter for my orders
snorter of c-ke, on the top of shoulders
from burger king employees
rather will bother and cut corners of short horror
the martyr who will cut like a barber, the author of my own story
telling everyone i know, in a broken tape recorder
resorting and never remorse, the more and more f-ggots becoming out closet wh-r-s
surely sally set and sat on the seash-r-
counting seash-lls with her head on my d-ck, slobbing on it
the sorta loading of devotion to cursing
my mind is falling out my head, i feel dead, that’s brain abortion
the black doorman, who fell a floor, with the teeth of dinosaur
i’m headed for these f-cking wh-r-s
i’ll rather fly all the way to ecuador, in a porta john
come back with a broken arm, arming, use my right arm
armed, like the army with a haitian war sword
with the gun close to my torso, hit a corridor
b-tch, i’ve fell seven floors, to meet a s-xy florist
told i’d give her the world, with an all green core
also said, she’s a wh-r-, she spat on me
and said, “my ego was bigger than scrooge mcduck’s coin vault”
it ain’t my fault i’m stingy as a dumb downed horse
she said, “ain’t, is not a word”, i told her plain and simple
with no remorse, to suck my t-st-cl-s like tentacles
i don’t make up with morals, it’s not my cup of tea
i’m dumping all over your new clothes from the gucci store
whoops, born with the endorphins of course
of eminem in the metaphor storage booth, looking for lines
like an boot camp for all white girls, on a roll, so if your asain
i’ll dump ling in the back at the corner store
you cl-sterf-ck of wh-r-s
flow hot as when i spring
i reach and touch the rim of the sun
i’m known for losses to be optional, because this i’ve been won
for all the p-ssy n-gg-s, stop going to kiss and tell
i’ll let my heart burn, while my bars are cold as h-ll
i’ll tear down this whole genre
i’m letting it burn i take chances
prance and chant, “i’m a dancer” but sk!ll of rapping is damage
like brain cancer, i’m making a k!lling soon, rude, intrusive
with smooth moves like i knew how to dance
i’m making moves just to k!ll fools
you n-gg-s are about be disabled, like a blind crippled guy
in a books a million, and trying to dip
before he noticed his fly was down, like a dead bug
and still try zip faster than the road runner on speed
out of then seen, of the books all over the floor, his fly down
not realizing, that the chick in the powder room
with her hair down, waiting to buy a copy of the catcher and the rye, seeing him there
looking suspiciously optimistic of what’s inside his tight -ss levi’s in fact so tight that my d-ck is the size
as the pole on the mcdonald’s sign
that lyric was tight, life’s a highlight of big fights, and sh-t at night
y’all rather watch bloodshed, than to settle sh-t, sh-t
i got so many bars in my pocket that in retrospect
it would seem that my pocket got stung by a wasp, or something do the dirty work later, but still be dirty with the lyrics
f-ck an appearance look in the mirror
an you’ll see the clearest picture of my endurance, exceptions for some of these n-gg-s with regular sh-t going on to take the last word out ya mouth
that the taste won’t even stick like velcro
in my veins, i’m pumping, iron, like i’m in the gym with a firearm
the devil of rap, i got the horns of a centaur
i come out dark as pitch, dark as sh-t, but i can see through it
deep sewers of dentures, there’s a boss at this job
but i guess i’m an intern working late at night for minimum wage
i don’t earn, i got these rap f-ggots in a headlock
grab em by they dreadlocks, and make em eat a bowl of upper cuts and gunshots
nitwit shady throwing derogatives at b-tches
who act like “the sh-t”, like plumbing p-n-ses we’re the business
inevitably these hoes be bugging me
when they need to see that they in too deep
cliff hanger like the end of a good movie scene
i got you in a tough spot, like a one room apartment
i’m dumping peter parker undergarments in the glove compartment
the orphan with the horrid aura is gerrish
i’m b-mping bubba sparxx, wu tang clan, and andre 3000
in the car, with a firearm, the double crosser
f-ck a lawsuit, i’m a boss, like a ceo
still got the gun on the p-ssenger side, she wanna a ride
why do i gotta remind you, realize i got eyes and see the real lies
i can see it in your eyes it’s a real lie, don’t act shy
i got you in a tugged mine, you’re mine
you got it twisted like i just pinched a b-tch t-ts
sucking my d-ck like a popsicle, popping like tire will
f-ck pop, it’s sickle
possibly the most satirical f-ck you’ll ever meet
and the odds and ends will run into the villain of rap as a whole
and so, the compet-tion is hard
i got an erection to stick in the upper positioning
of the rap game’s r-ct-m, go up as a king
spitting more than some food from a motel in wisconsin
and they gave me waffles and bacon, on a hot plate
oww, i just burnt my hand, i’m a virus, i got a sinus infection
i’m injecting these reckless rhymes in, spit more than daffy duck
and you stutter more than a broken chainsaw, and if dare say
i’m a disabled f-ck, i am one
cause i got the mental sk!ll to know i can knock ya -ss out
with one punch, i don’t even think you have the b-lls to diss me
me and rap ain’t got along for so long
i’m crushing lyrically and metaphorically these nut swallowing
suave, swabbing f-ggots off of my block, like a chicken coop
i got money stocked in my pocket, i don’t give a f-ck
so i punched the f-ck out of the f-ggot who offered to
if i go completely bonkers i’ll dye my hair blonde
and go out in the streets singing “i can’t touch this” in a toga
with some holy water in a bottle, in traffic, tragic, news report
of me on tv, while people look confused and feel sorry for btg it’s the season ain’t leaving until i get to dump these f-ckers
that diss me inside of piranha tank, and never yank em out
because i don’t care, give a cat scan to a p-ssy n-gg-
i don’t care what it supposed to be used in
it’s a wrap like a ball made of rubber bands
if you ever go against the kid again
i’m giving more of a grip of realness
and bigger g*nius of lyrical terror to imbeciles
my cerebral is lethal, i need a headband
then again i did i hit myself in my head while i was strapped in a baby carriage
rolling down a hill while my arm is hurting
yes i was so embarr-ssed, but d-mnit
the sh-t i say and do have my n-gg-s believe that i have permanent brain damage
if you think i’m h-m-phobic, i hold that on, cause i do it for fun
i joke around just to p-ss these f-ggots the f-ck off
and for them to even talk to me makes me want to vomit
my only phobia is in my future my t-st-cl-s are the size of cotton b-lls and my d-ck look like half of a vienna sausage
i don’t want that to be occurring
tell future i been had my “mask off”, b-tch
and my sk!ll be off putting like an old folks home
i make sure to k!ll all like a bounty hunter with a saw
n-gg-s talking about they water while my flow be like a faucet
these suckers who sob at my door while i’m watching spongebob with my drawers on need to buzz off like a electric door
hence the origin of the son of gore, for henceforth
the black guy with the fedora listening to horrorcore
horrid, like henry, i’m a monster, rawr, with constant metaphors that’ll last more than half of rapper’s career, i’m lost
y’all motherf-ckers are blind to see
that i’m making up for all the war, with rap, that i’ve gone on about before
f-ck it, i’m sticking 4 metal forks burn them in the microwave
for 44 minutes and stab them in your got d-mn corneas
and if that doesn’t blow up your home, oh well
i’m not gonna apologize you think i was going to
what are you on, i’m gonna k!ll on and on like a spree
worse than donald trump goals
billy the kid with a pistol as a number one weapon to go to
posted to k!ll all, like a action movie poster
i don’t hold to the past well i need a holster
i don’t why n-gg-s say they get n-gg-s wet on the block
they need a coaster
i’m a roll the game on it’s f-cking back like cl-sses for yoga
therefore i move rap like a horse on a chessboard
and i got more in store than a packed wal-mart
indent like i did with my d-ck in ya b-tch i’m sick
with a list of k!lling materials to chop
like jason’s machete, or chef and sh-t
no theft but i steal, as i step, and i don’t be seen
like a dark african dude in a f-cking movie scene
b-tch, i induce the fools
and i might as well be the master of the legion of doom
soon, i will become the goon of koons
the better focus to all my rules, been descending on my craft
well i’m back with a vengeance
and been spitting constant sentences, after another
i got these words down pat like a spelling bee
i’m crossing more paths with these f-g rappers like intersections, f-ck all elections, two sh-ts never gave em, disses on the internet, is not my taste, they won’t break me, using it as gateway saying i suck plainly, and quit, but they afraid what i’ll do when i cause they vanishment
i’m too heinous to take the blame of saying
bout i’m lame and sh-t, think around the box
i think ya brain is a paradox
a pair of locks you talk the talk, don’t walk the walk
i’m flailing in, afraid and p-ssing there pants before
i’m ready to smash there cranium, banish you
and make you vanish, upon my appearance
saying lyrics don’t matter before i ever see disappear
i’ll use tom’s mallet, salad, mat, pole from the banister and clash
tense, cause you’ll whole career is a disappointing
bunch of sh-t punish him and punish her
you can’t contain my anger and, finish them off
using a gun made from uranium
and b-tch, i am dysfunctional
like peter griffin family, i swear more than my wrist
f-ck diamonds i wear ruby belts
and i bench rappers trying to diss me for no d-mn reason
like a basketball player, i crossed more paths in my past
by making my last line my last
but i really can’t cause my bars keeps coming
my d-ck is spazzing
familiar with the game so i can always play my cards right
punch any n-gg- in the face twice that ya skin turn to white as rice
i bark on the track like a dog fight
i’m too much of a villain to make the game nice
i’m all flight, read in between the lines i spit like a flannel
you can’t handle this, i got more sk!ll than you’ll ever have
so back back, for i hit you so hard you’ll fly all the way to afghanistan, like a football with a quarterback
f-ck the change at that and the bank in fact
walked in a b-ss pro shop, with a german accent
with a gun in my pants, and they automatically thought i was bout to rob them again
putting they hands up seeing the gun
and they ask me did i want any money from the cash register
i walked away and came back to slap the cr-p out of that f-ggot
of course i want some gr-ss, like a farmer, i ran as fast as i can, stole the whole cash register
and said “you not getting this sh-t back again”
never settle, sit in a cell, now i’m goku raising h-ll
you might think i can sing like n sync
i sync (sing) more with rapping like an r&b singer
i’m might just get started
you wouldn’t imagine this much of a black b-st-rd
would craft and master on the top of -ss of bad b-tches
ready to smash, with the some gl-sses, some masking tape, a lamp, some hand soap, a piano, more flannel shirts, b-tter, candle, cans, a drum stick, door handle, candy sticks, plants, egg beater, heater, hot dog wiener, and vacuum cleaner
went down hill when i told her my gr-ss was vast
go buy yourself a life and a d-ck
and vanish out where i’m standing
make one disappear, and make ya disappear
i make upon the tier of greats, for now y’all cry it off
some say slow down, that’ll be the day
when 2pac comes back from the grave, but i doubt it
i route through all bullsh-t and somehow still stop it
vast area, of mast hysterical layers of pandering
and won’t stop until i get it through these thick skulled b-st-rds f-ck it i might as well smash their membranes
with a mallet, a tennis racket, and a bat, and still be a rapper
cl-ssic lyricism, back and i’m never stopping at all
i cut all open with bars like a saw
and let’s just say i’m not done yet
b-tch, f-ck the prequels, i’m continuing the saga
better watch ya step, you just got into some real sh-t
you can call me a piece of it, but this it
will blast you off the henges, like a door off craigslist
the kid, with the lyrical sk!ll of eminem and jay z combined
no need for a hall of fame
i am one packaged in a box made out of elastic, fantastic
that would mean i can bounce back
from these rhymes as i think outside of it
n-gg-s really think mobbing deep
will cause havoc upon themselves
but the prodigy of this rap sh-t will soon excel, rip to him
spitting synonyms, taking ritalin, to expand, my adrenaline, longer than a motherf-cking pistol grip
this is more filler, than a ben stiller thriller
i’m drilling these bars in ya ears again, sequence
as the scene you’re in, b-tch i’m making ends meet
like the elderly and the heaven gates
since a little boy, was never able to give two f-cks
i tape karma, so trouble won’t come back cause i duct
like the matrix, i guess i go harder than a g6
these fake n-gg-s haven’t been a g since, in my eyes
i can’t see the clear picture of these motherf-ckers
trying to diss me, like a sequin, yak yakity, don’t talk nothing
i’d rather yell my -ss off
like a black auctioneer without his kfc chicken
i got the ent-ty, k!lling beats, and rapping my -ss off
and tell ya daughter
she can come over and suck my p-n-s like a bendy straw
i got lady lawyers who tell me to, f-ck off, f-ck on
get away, no, well than b-tch what do you want
f-ck a steak, i cook these motherf-ckers, and it’s rare
to see a teen in the rap game who actually f-cking cares
i don’t mean to be disrespectful
to any m-sses, but my automatic
pop more than a f-cking katy perry alb-m
oh, if anybody ask my age, tell anyone i’m 300
beause i just spartacus kicked any motherf-cker
who thinks i’m a lame, i got the factor, of k!lling all
don’t know what drugs i’m on, these words i put together but rap, i broke up, and messed up, so like school, i got expelled
i excelled, with excellent, bars that bring h-ll
the cause of making every n-gg- follow my law
ripped and ripple, and cripple all of these guys
i’m crazy i know, roll my eyes
the black is the new orange
so contorted that i’ll pre record
the rest of the “finn” alb-m in a handicapped spot
because it’s mental
make you fear everything i have to say against you
and like a dictionary, that be my word
so i’ll make my bars on point to k!ll at n-gg-s
like a deadly darkish dart board
sharp knives h-t ya -ss like i’m king author
with the sword from hogwarts, not a book writer either
i haven’t even picked up a pen before
it definitely isn’t normal, i know
but my brain so f-cked up
it can be used to describe a dumb -ss piece of art to r-t-rded people on a yellow short bus
while the driver gives course on it, of course
n-gg-s think i hate these wh-r-s, i’m not misogynistic
but lyrically running odd and ends
i’m the next rap solution
the hypothesis of rhymes spiraling like strings on a violin
violently, single out like a bachelor
i think i learned how’d to recreate
the english language into an acronym
in the drug emporium pouring whole bottle pills into ya drinks, and the warning signs i’m ignoring them, i meditate with inhalers, self channel my inner self my inner self is evil it’s evident
so much evil one can really take that ya stomach
takes form of a anorexic kid
recklessness never sit and think on my life decisions
that’s channeling, like hockey, puck it, f-ck it
i’ll knock every f-cking b-tterfly out of ya stomach
the son of running sh-t, picking the pix, and axe out the b-tches, f-ck a fence, if i say the word “f-ggot”
how the f-ck is that a offence, you can’t picket me
so i come back with new insults, gruesome
turn ya head into a loopty loop, course the noose it’s truthful
i can make the f-cking fools of peta
fear my ruling all i would have to do is stick a school ruler
in a dog’s p–per while it’s drooling
kush cooped within euphemisms
the rude dude to due the business, living prison
i look down on ya grave call it reaper appearance
not even chains, a boat attached to a anchor, metal detectors locked on my ankles, handcuffs, a handle
and not even that can stop me going rambo and commando
i attach it, yelling my -ss off like i’m the general
from full metal jacket
perplexing as a rapist in the game i screwed it over
like some frost bite, not on my lip, but on my cold shoulder
i don’t stiggity stand for making mess
f-ck it, i’m making my match, with an mac, uzi
and leaving you bleeding, f-ck a maxipad
my patience is wearing thin, it’s more skinny recently
f-cked it my sh-t shriveled in rap, that’s why i raisin
and more of a d-ck in fact, that my b-lls are too big
and i stir up raps in fact that so much of a single wack rapper
in my appearance will bashed in half like a fraction
b-st-rd that won’t dial anything back
the author with bars i rap, i can’t and will never stop at that
the violent goar host of rap
will not take my presence back even i reversed the track
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