mr. muthafuckin exquire – the last huzzah (remix) lyrics
[intro]
aight, i’ma do a 40
breast milk, you made my day
know we had to do a remix right
take that, take that
[hook]
drunk driving on a wednesday
with three b-tches in an mpv
half a gallon of georgie porgie
and cranberry: that’s the p.o.p
love p-ssion, a recipe for terror
we mix them sh-ts together and then we have an orgy
we live this life forever
we never gonna stop, you with us, lemme hear you scream
[verse 1: despot]
one vodka soda poured over 4-leaf clovers
he be the luckiest f-ck this side of the rainbow you know of
he seen the blood and the guts and the gang signs get thrown up
he seen the fight and the fuss for that same pot of gold
but he hold the dice and he roll em and if he lose, it’s a hold up
plus got them sticks and them stones that’ll bust them thin brittle bones up
won’t switch his pitch or his tone up for no one, b-tch, he a grown up
the kid is so “so what” they didn’t think he would show up
slow up, happy to be here, muster up three cheers
hip-hip, who are you; hear, hear
huzzah sis-boombah, cue the fanfare
go fetch the man of the year a godd-mn chair
he’s half there, ditched the other half w-lly-nilly
buss how he hit the town, c-cked back, slapping it silly
don’t beat him while he down off whatever his favorite swill be
i ain’t a k!ller but don’t k!ll me
[verse 2: kool a.d.]
beer and whiskey shots, weirder than 50, pac
biggie, or ricky ross, i’m jiggy, i’m vicky vasquez
don’t love the game, shot clocking above the game
ballers and shotcallers be calling me bob costas
i’m immortal technique: i’m obnoxious
h-lla-people telling me to stop it
probably be jealous cause we sell it at a profit
kenan and kellin’ it and it’s awesome
i’m nas man, i’m god’s son, nah dunn, i’m on one
i’m dumb, i don’t got guns dude
but let’s battle and see who sons who
i’m reading sun-tzu, translating don k!lluminati into spanish
wrapping my body in bandages
[verse 3: heems]
drunk driving on a wednesday, all my friends be rapping
they always be writing, wake up tomorrow, like what happened?
the verse done, and it’s always aight tho
ayo, michael jackson is monty python (what?)
all of y’all pr-cks can suck my d-ck (d-ck!)
i’m stupid as sh-t, but i’m bout to be rich (rich!)
i’m at the pizza hut, i’m at the taco bell
the combination made my eyes bleed (see what i did i there?)
it’s herman, i’m swerving, the nervous mc
i’ll rap on the track if my friends let me (thank you friends!)
you guys aiite, but i ain’t tryna have an orgy (nothing personal!)
the jameson, the ginger ale, occasionally the georgi (off it!)
the popov, the dubra, all of that sh-t (all of it!)
proper and super, they falling back quick (quick)
i got three shirts and they all look expensive (two of ’em do!)
2000 volkswagen mad old and dented
skateboard p, ashanti: foolish (foolish!)
the worst rapper on this track, third coolest
[verse 4: danny brown]
straight shots of cuervo, blunts to the neck
got a rat b-tch that smoke blacks until the plastic melt
my legacy is shining like a diamond on a tanning bed
climbing on you n-gg-s, put the iron to your head
instead, you n-gg-s tryin’ to get ahead
like a stray bullet, you n-gg-s misled
i’m about my bread, you ain’t, you can roll
try and stop that, get a bagel-sized hole
cause it a’ been nice, heat the house, use a stove
took a cold bath to walk to school in the snow
now i take it back, when these n-gg-s was fronting
now i got something, ain’t worried about nothing, n-gg-
me and my n-gg-s about to take the world over
me and my n-gg-s about to take the world over
rolling out a onion, blunts paul bunyan
onion booty b-tch crying, deep throating something
[verse 5: el-p]
straight shots of sterno, wick stuck in the bottle empty
three blocks to the target we lit it and lob it hard at sentry
four pigs of the oinking variety guard the market entry
five minutes of flames ‘n’ then aim the whistle my father lent me
six o’clock we meet up and divvy the sh-lls among the youngins
seven continents in the sh-t and smoke like it’s f-ckin london
just before they ate up the funds our harmony love was b-mping
now the government issue nines and point it where your blood is pumping
tend to mop up these muttering zombies talker pieces
el’ll vent on you harder than f-kushima breezes
in the end when a dozen or so adjourn to reason
you’ll find the verdict return corrupted in murderous seasons
with inverted 31s and other unlucky omens
thats why i chug 7 and 7s til i’m f-cking homeless
and every time you think my fifteen minutes of fame are up
i’ll spit another sixteen to prove to the world i f-cking own it
[verse 6: mr. m-th-f-ckin’ exquire]
d-mn it feel good to see people up on it
couple thousand views on youtube a n-gg- still hungry
no food in my stomach and my pockets f-cked up
plus my mother still work so why should i give a f-ck?
f-ck a blog, f-ck a label, f-ck a meeting, f-ck an a&r
f-ck a co-sign, mothaf-cka f-ck it all
still lost as holden caulfield, the catcher in the rye
skull f-ck her, sm-t, nuttin’ try to catch her in the eye
big belly still take my shirt off like nelly
rasta pasta for footprints buy liquor out the deli and sh-t
my pops negligence done made me rebellious
arrested development the rest is irrelevant
f-ck a throne watch the project bench covered in pigeon sh-t
this for my n-gg- los ’til we see him again
stretch a n-gg- like a regular tee from the outlet
hidin’ my rhyme book from the grammaton clerics
mishka bear, obnoxious as roger klotz
i plot as the clock tick tocks to make the world suck my c-ck
validated in every wrong decision i ever did
my ex girlfriend thought i wouldn’t ever be sh-t
well looky here b-tch my d-ck grew 6 inches since then
will i make it out the projects? i guess it depends
huzzah, b-tch!
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