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twisted insane - underground psycho lyrics

[verse 1: twisted insane]
yeah…
i’m that individual that you don’t wanna see up on a full moon
might turn into werewolf, sh-t n-gga it can be a nightmare if i go kookoo
brain splatter on the floor, any minute i get with it, yeah i did it if a m-th-f-cka wolfin
i don’t wanna hear that “hold on, wait a minute, i just wanna talk” m-th-f-cka just take the -ss whooping
sick n-gga, still on block with gangsta sh-t
stand outside with the heater on
go on a mission with a gangsta b-tch
up in the club with a gang of b-tches
you can act like i ain’t the sh-t
but don’t be all up on me when i’m leaving with the homies
and you runnin’ through the door like you’re chasing d-ck (brainsick)
what’s this? like a n-gga ain’t big no more?
comin’ through the door, doing different shows, f-ckin’ hoes, n-ggas on the road, i ain’t lit no more?
maybe ’cause a n-gga don’t spit slow-mode?
and you other n-ggas is this so-so?
back up out my lane ‘fore i rip a n-gga brain
get the f-ck outta my way, i ain’t playing no more

[talking]
hold up n-gga, you trying to smoke up all the weed again n-gga? (no..)
aye, come in here with that sh-t n-gga
i’m-i’m-i swear you ain’t finna be doing this sh-t to me again n-gga. (a’ight)
you know what i mean, when i’m in this motherf-ka tryin’ to do my sh-t
(i got you man) i just need a quick hit n-gga before i go in
i’m back

[continued verse]
give me the weed i need to be before a n-gga do my verse
smoking it by the ton, i need a pound to fill my f-ckin’ he-rs-
yeah, i play to win, i used to sit ’em when i play, watch the rays event
different m-th-f-ckas comin’ every day to spend
i made so much money at the days-a end (hehehe!)

[chorus: c-mob]
un-underground psycho
you don’t really wanna tag on your toe
i’mma leave ’em with a .44 mag to your ho
leave you chopped up laying in a bag on the floor
un-underground psycho
f-ck around you’ll be losing your brain
make a move when i go and get the tools out the shed
i’m sick f-ck, i don’t have screws in my head
under-underground psycho
most of you rappers are whack with the bars
better come correct, don’t act like you’re hard
i’mma leave your body parts in the back of my yard
u-u-underground psycho
no love for a punk or a b-tch
keep ’em in the bas-m-nt or the trunk of my whip
then when i’m done you’ll get dumped in a ditch

[verse 2: twisted insane]
d-d-d-d-different n-gga, call it what you want to, i’m a f-ckin’ nut
comin’ in wolfin’ disrespectful sh-t
all these little n-ggas will f-ck you up
s-some of the n-ggas even might cut you up
and put you in the freezer with the chicken guts
get ready for filleting i can open up his brain
i can hear you people saying “this n-gga nuts”
when i get up on it and i really be up on it
i be pushing like a comet, i be feeling supersonic
kinda like i was bionic with the gin and f-ckin’ tonic and i really go gorillas
’cause i was feeling super on it
to the m-th-f-cka wolfing ’til i make him taste the vomit
then i bring him to the dark and then i make him feel it haunted
and i feed him to the fish and make ’em meal up out the stomach
when i’m skidding past a m-th-f-cka like i work at sonic
wicked n-gga, come from the era of the gangsta pimp
won’t be caught dead in skinny jeans
b-tches still walk around with a gangsta limp
half the new n-ggas is gangsta simps
better yet not, gangsta wimps
you better for reala and you better be a k!lla
‘fore you run up on gorillas, blood, i ain’t a chimp
psy-psy-psycho n-gga, living up on the edge, head full of steam
i’m from diego, california where these n-ggas run up on ya
turn your face into bologna at the pull of green
yeah, i’mma shoot ’em when i’m murdering a witch n-gga
when i catch ’em, wouldn’t wanna be a b-tch n-gga
i couldn’t give a mad f-ck about a president that’s still a b-tch in person that’ll run up on a rich n-gga

[verse 3: c-mob]
p-p-pedal to the metal, man i never half -ss sh-t
on another level, spittin’ that acid
give ’em that package, then i act savage
you are not a rapper you are just a whack actress
radio rappers are quicker to slaughter
feel like i’m givin’ this d-ck to your daughter
f-ckin’ ’em ’til it gets thicker than water
lyrically castrating rappers, so we probably on one
you don’t wanna see me get loco, you are not og bobby johnson
they’re telling me i’m sort of crazy
i’d say the odds are more than maybe
k!llin’ off gold diggers, can’t afford a lady
i’mma leave ’em in the trash like aborted babies
sick of the trickery tricks’ll be history quickly if you be f-ckin’ with me
triggers be fl1ckering whistling wickedly sickening it’ll be something to see
layin’ in the back of a seven-eleven, send you up to heaven, ascended to pearly gates
scalping a mothaf-cka like a native american, instead of a tomahawk i’m using a .38
sicker than syphilis, twisted like licorice
gifted with wickedness, b-tches and mistresses
lifted like icarus, this is ridiculous
chris is meticulous with the word, rippin’ this
dropping pipe bombs in your chimney on christ-i-mas
like a sadom-s-ch-stic saint nicholas
twisted insane and c-mob are comin’ through your neighborhood tearing sh-t up we’re so sick with this…

- twisted insane lyrics

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