[Kool G. Rap] Here's the motherfuckin magnificent I'll even bag innocent
motherfuckers See suckers like there was ten I sent So if you come in my
way great I pull out the trey eight Kool G. Rap's your fate and not your
playmate So all you niggaz on the floor bitchin that shit is dead Tell it
to the motherfuckin mortician So get ready to let the led out I'm knockin
niggaz dead out and blowin the back of your fuckin head out Cookin niggaz
better than mama's dinner So let the drama enter, I'm sendin niggaz to the
trauma center Because I'm rollin with force, tearin niggaz out the
frame like they was pictures of a bitch that I divorced Boss, so come on
nigga, get wild and loose I whoop your motherfuckin ass and get arrested for
child abuse Even your bitch can get it nigga I shove the barrel of a nine
up her behind and pull the fuckin trigger Goin Psycho like Norman Bates,
G. you better sedate Because lately niggaz ain't able to take me It ain't
a man in the land that can stand G. Rap Save that candy-rap, shit for the
handicapped Niggaz'll get slayed like a bunch of play pirates Fuckin with
me, y'alld rather fuck with the AIDS virus Cause I set em up wet em up like
sprinkles And put niggaz to sleep longer than Rip Van Winkle The quicker
the shit, the quicker the hit, I'm peakin a fit Leavin niggaz sicker than
Liberace's dick Good luck, another hood bucked I kick you so far up your
ass I get my motherfuckin foot stuck See I manage to give niggaz more than a
bandage Blue Cross and Blue Shield, couldn't cover the motherfuckin
damage Cause I'm bold and bigger, puttin manholes in niggaz and holdin
triggers up, to them golddiggers So if you all over my dick just like a
rubber My rap is so fat, I make ? and ? ? blubber You better duck, I'm
like a volcano when I erupt you bitch-ass rappers'll get fucked And
you'll be one hoe, like Marilyn Monroe left on death row, because I let the
gun go bang blow your motherfuckin brains out But you need more than
detergent to get that motherfuckin stain out Cause I serve more crabs than
Red Lobster's When I pop shots, I leave lotsa dead mobsters Put down the
microphone whether unknown or famous You're out of luck and I don't give a
FUCK what your name is Boy you better split, cause I'ma house shit My
dick'll be rich if you niggaz wants to put your money where your mouth
is Gassed up ass nigga, come set it Cause when I pick up the gun, that be
the end of the unleaded Now you could be a gold or a platinum artist But
deep down, you fuckin silly clowns know who's the hardest Niggaz I watered
down with the quarter pound cause my slaughter sound can be caught
around and found the slaughter town For the clowns got eighty rounds
worth of ammo Play it again Sam, put on my jams, fuck a piano I'm leavin
lame niggaz brain dead Aww fuck it, nuff said