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The O: I be the G and the plan is to slam, damn That I can, biff bam, Batman, Robin steady mobbin c G be the man, slammin, you say psalms with your moms And you home playing Backgammon Mom left me dressed up, but messed up With my hair combed nicely, but I was shiesty At any given time there might be liquor in my ice tea Always yelling in my ear "Drugious, play nicely" Now I on the mic see, my mental style wild child To the file I spit the vile in the pile That make the girls smile, make a German "Sieg Heil" Unlike Spark Lyle, I be here for a while People want to know yo, how you get so loco Head want to know who to thank for my flow, son I saying "Oh, can be quite sure" Link with my shrink I think she know who knows Hey mom (yes, dear) Thanks for the anal thermometer I be the illest, microphone ventriloquist Brothers say he real with this Got the the feel for this (yeah, yeah) Use to have a drug problem thinking How am I going to pay for this But now the record company gets the bill, so I chill Get my fill getting ill with the pill or the swill Every brain cell I kill, I regenerate a mill What the deal yo, with the way I fell so much stress Why, it was my sperm on Monica dress I confess, more or less, that the west is the best Ain that right, Ry (psyche) both coasts what I like When I was younger and in school My teacher grabeed my pad and pen He insane, he a fool Said you better try again Now you take all of the teachers from kindergarten to the 12th grade that I ever had ever Put them in a room, empty your pockets, you may be clever But I making more than all ya teachers put together On stage all the girlies nipples in the crowd got check (Woo hah) got you all erect Prom Jurken And when they Cocktailjurken asking the G how you get so twisted I twitch but I calm, don ask me, ask my mom Hey mom (yes, dear) Thanks for the anal thermometer The scent of Vaseline, it make me scream Like I in a bad dream like a fiend screen scene With the theme from Halloween, know what I mean Mr. Clean seems to gleam he ream then his misdamean my spleen Causing my rage to beam, lyrical machine Like a white Rakim, so don tell me to go to hell Chi-double-L tha be the way to Quell My uncertainty, not by hurting me, hell You don gotta stick no nothing all up in my butt To find out how I feel, girl, just say yo what up Don tell me you love me Then bend me and fuck Don bend me and fuck me Then tell me that you love me true
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