Sunday, January 29, 2017

Ralph Nader official lyrics (dedicated to Jack Splash)

(verse 1)
"It's alive, Igor!" FUCK is y'all niggas hatin' on me for?! You need to retort! At least look up what the word is... you don't understand why you hate me, you virgins! Is it 'cause I had my fingers inside some sloppy seconds that y'all niggas say I gotta be reckless and check 'em? Fuck you! I'm tired of you niggas! Niggas is liars and now I'm firing you niggas! I'm Jobs! Stevie! Like, you can't see me! Hard to believe me when I'm speaking! Why? Because I present you with lies... because I know the truth. Argue with me, since you know it, too. Oh you don't?! Sorry, this little ol' booth is the only thing holding me back from not being couth. But fuck niggas. They don't wanna see it through. But I love people who believe in this dude... let's go!

(verse 2)
For the record, THANK YOU JIMMY IOVINE! The only person who does not believe I can NOT be someone bigger than the Eminem guy. Since he was "fly", in the eyes of niggas who was tryna die. I'm not trying to be fly. I was used to getting grounded. My mom used to found me the reason why "Bound (2)" is bounty. Clean up a mess. And I was the biggest mess. (I) didn't "steam up in the steps" when I was younger, but when I got older I wiccame a stoner. And now, people are looking at me with a boner. I smoke until I get into a coma. What? Is it because you think I'm a loner that I don't have a diploma of owning motherfuckers and their "diplomacy"? No one's owing me nothing, 'cause no one's knowing me. I know the deepest secrets of everyone. Like Social Security. You know, 'cause you're hearing me.

(verse 3)
I love making music. The simplest fact(s). Nothin' better than getting out the booth and hearing you track, after you just ripped it into places of which a track could skip if you make a crack in the CD. ACTUALLY BITING ME, as seen on TV. "Cable In The Classroom". MAD cool. But cats wanna hate on this "awesome" and "rad" dude, because I grew up in Harlem where bitches don't bag dudes. Let me turn my phone down before someone calls me, and I'll be forced to spit off beat, all week. 'Cause I could rap to this beat for the rest of my life, and then get rest until my life is arrested. By life. You know, when I die. And hopefully that won't happen anytime nigh. So while I look into the eye of the sky of the future, I hope I'm what you're used to.

I don't give a fuck
About what people say.
I don't give a fuck
About what people say.
I don't give a fuck
About what people say.
Neither should
Unless I own- ...
Unless I own them mu'fuckas!

Hold your head, Jack.
There's love for you after all.
I think.


~follow the buzzards~

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