Loopy Snoopy: Fuck you talking 'bout, I'll slap your favorite rapper dead in the mouth, nigga. Rotten, say the word, nigga
Pyro Traxx: Ain't no giving up in this, nah. Ain't none of that, not a nigga like YOU
Venom: Yeah, Lyrical exercise cuz we definitely gotta flex on THESE niggas
Verse: Dear Slim, I wrote you but you haven't called up, if you answer, hold up- I'ma fart on the phone line, that's how you gas a goat up- on contact- and I want cash for this little contract, get a Mathers quarter, masked up like "hand all those Masters over"...cuz I'm broke- so I'm sending this track to Rosen-berg, and half the Slaughter-house Fam- even Nickle is gonna pass the torch, I'm- only 5'6 but my afro's taller/bumped your tracks of course, since a kid, with a fix- of Crooked I (eye), like my glasses falling...adjust them, "and just in- we received news of another Puerto Rican nigga tryna smash through doors at Forbes, detaching doorknobs, said all he wants is for Stan to autograph a starter- cap"...whoa...
Nowadays, everybody wanna talk like they got something to say- but don't everybody fucking bud in (budden) at once, it's Rotten in the flesh like a zombie with a rash, I'm bold en-ough, to go hop the fence- at Rihanna's crib- just to ask for a glass of water- from between her legs, and drink away- like a stream from Saratoga- Springs, then bend her over- to see her drip...eat it quick, make a scenic flick- on the backroom casting sofa/Em said she loves kinky shit, lil freak tried to stab my scrotum- blood splattered on the- mattress, vulgar- when I spit...tried getting Roman's Revenge- with a trojan and bent- Nicki to grab and grope her/before either one of us could climax, her ass exploded...like ahhh...
In my bedroom I used to have Aftermath on Posters- like they're Backstreet Boys ta'- young bitches, way back, when I was on a fucking psycho-path that led me to smash some daughters...
Niggas thinking that they're big SHOTS, when in reality they ain't nothing but glass MIMOSAS/I'll smack every clown thinking that IT raps ferocious, face painted, rocking all black like-
The Crow...
In fact, I noted- I'm in all black, smacking rap clowns, like Batman back-smacking Joker...I was 16 when I heard Em say he wanted to thrash Dakota- Fanning, and I was thinking me too, we should ping pong the bitch, go back and forward/even catch some action in a fashion store, and wrap a cord 'round Macklemore to bash his skull up- stash my drawers with cash withdrawals that could pay for more than half my wardrobes, and a mansion for us/tell Curtis Jackson I want Mags and Kalashnikovs, enough Ammo to handle Ar-mys...dismantle armor, anim-al, with a brain the size of Kardashian wallets...
And I woke up in a shitty mood, don't wanna do no interviews, just wanna kill a few of these celebrities you people really get into... eliminate "myself," - all thanks to cancel culture, shit I'll probably get canceled 'fore I- get the chance to blow up/tell Chance I got Rhythm AND Flow, and want Cardi on the Tip til her back is broke, but- don't set me off, bitch, I'm off-set, and keep 3 blades, Hugh Jack in Wolver-ine...(You got fire!) like I raw-dog smashed a homeless bitch...and got AIDS, but decap'd it off- like Nick Berg, quick verse- killing, nigga, what the fuck do I gotta do for attention?- say Eminem sucks at pop, like he's trying to vacuum soda?!...or give Caitlyn Jenner a handjob?, rock a Maga hat with Yeezys?, bump Drakes "Controlla?"/wake Walt Disney out of his rapist coma, then play gay til I'm scraping Yola?...or-
*Caw*
Get crows feet- from my lack of sleep?, I'm tryna compose a flow that- even Em couldn't fathom how I managed to cause so much havoc, he ain't see shit like that since the first time he said the word "faggot"- On the Slim Shady Lp, that was my Bible, now I don't buy bull, I do- not step inside of churches, I start melting, that's why I'm yelling out to God to fucking HELP ME!
Chika Chika
Dear Slim, I wrote you but you haven't called up, if you answer, hold up...I'ma trace that phone, and lyrically slash your throat up- on contact- and I want cash for this little contract, get a Mathers quarter, masked up like "hand all those Masters over"...cuz I'm broke- so I'll send this track to Boogie, gonna bash your roster...half of Slaughter- Ortiz gon pass the torch, I'm- the other Boricua, a bad New Yorker/bumped
Your tracks of course, since a kid, with a fix- of Doc Dre, your Dad from Compton...adjust them, "and just in- we received news of that fucking Puerto Rican nigga tryna smash through doors at Forbes, detaching doorknobs, said all he wants is for Stans to autograph his starter- cap"...whoa
Ay
You mu'fuckers relax, cuz RottenMynded not playing
I'm a pile of shit...I'm a pile of shit...I love you, but I'm a pile of shit
La lala- lala la la lala
