Hey Big Loony, thats a terrible tune,
leave you cryin like an emo kid to despair in ya room
ive got the flair to assume ya scared and aware of ya doom
you couldnt sweep my fucking pubes if you put nair on a broom
and its almost Halloween so let me suck them teets,
fuck trick or treat cause this trick knows where to stick this meat,
im the championship, bitch you a chocolate chip,
stack you up like some wood to get chopped and split,
just a lyrical prophet, and so far ive profited
eat some fiber man so you can stop this shit
i guess im obscene like a third nipple out ya forehead
i like more girls so gorgeous my penis gorges out its foreskin
so lick up on these nuts cause they taste just like cinnamon
killin mcs scott free like my name is George Zimmerman
and fuck the cameraman, i need a camera for my twitter bitch,
im gonna live-stream your girls room as im mackin on her clitoris.
Sometimes I feel like this lifes a game, and I know it ain't real but this games my life,
I've always been the type, of guy, to try, and fly, the line, and not stray from my lane despite,
feeling that all I do is take words, that ive heard, turn them abusrd and murder both day and night,
but I wanna rap so i practice attacks and in fact my name is max motherfuckers and I came to fight,
ill use the force to force four fifths of this foreskin forward in to this whores quim till shes sore and soarin with all four limbs dismembered with a thin ninja sword i ordered from a foreign foreman so abhorrant with his four door ford in the fjords of portland, pour some port then while the game still snoring as your bitch is roaring on my dick and came pouring shorties are always the same whoring and if she stays till morning I could tape our sweet A's together so she never escapes this place in oregon. Fucking Skeletor is a hella bore, HE doth rhyme quoth the raven though im prayin that its never more, and fuck a zelda line ill peddle rhymes till this bastards sore for 7 years or more as he slashes his drawers so i can sheath up underneath with my master sword,
his rhymes are crap, but it was always a long shot, i break pot off for days he just takes pot shots, this bag of bones has been a liar, never been hired, shit, i got flames son. Dins Fire.
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