And I hop, and I flip over niggas like gymnastics (HEY!) Watch the way and I'm givin the streets acid Bastards niggas know I'm the king of the classics
[Mad Child:] Calculated cold blooded killer A methodical animal of the dusk I'll blow the planet to dust Hell boy acid drenched Dead lift danger Born
drop yeah Hit the mall in Long Island, they got hens out there I'm not a sex symbol, gangsta or activist I just bubble like acid in a glass of Cris' My
move 'cause I'm ready let's go (Let's go) To your house or my house What you wanna do? I'll leave it up to you Your house or my house Stop playing
service, church's chicken A bu-a-bucket full of acid by the do' Just in case I gotta throw away my yole Bars around the house, bars around the window
the scream of the butterfly sunshine in the house of flames she loves it where she gets it but it's never felt the same surgery, in the house of dissection
see it dominate the six o'clock news It's on the cover of your magazines The television is a horror show The paper reads like something by Stephen King
enroll in some classes All you curve pieces start shaking your asses All you blunt holders take two pulls and pass it Back in '89 I dropped too much acid
enroll in some classes All you earth pieces start shakin' your asses All you blunt holders take two pulls and pass it Back in '89 I dropped too much acid
our customers come up to us daily Yet and still I cut this stuff crazy, a hustler baby What can I give you? I distribute ki's to the kings And Z's to
And I hop and I flip over niggas like gymnastics Watch the way that I'm comin ', I'm givin' the streets acid Bastards, niggas know I'm the king of the
bring bombers Bearded like Talibans, booted, my black ninjas I'll come through, tuxedos on with the gold llamas Priceless like emeralds, check out the ski mask King
in the novel by Grisham. Or Tommyknockers, by Mr. King, on the run and this ain't no dream. REPEAT CHORUS MNP: Hiding out on the tree house floor
'm with King T and Tha Liks, Alkahol-ed it up Like bitch, get the fuck off my dick I got pistols, pills, acid, bomb, crank Crystallized coke and limes
guess who owns them No friendly, non-threatening corporate lacky mucks in the totem Lucy was in the sky with diamonds Five dollars to hold them The summer beneath these Pac-Man's with acid
when I was a kid, and I moved on the Makenzie where my grandmother lived, fastfoward ten years and a couple acid trips, now we in front on Locs house
the run, bloodtrails leadin' to the chamber, I gun, flatline is what my pulse reads bangin' on a gong, Climbin' the fox theatre like King Kong I ping
of our customers come up to us daily Yet and still I cut this stuff crazy - a hustler, baby What can I give you? I distribute ki's to the kings and z'
