A bottle of jack`s got my manager grinnin`
Yeah that`s me that keeps the turntables spinnin`
I`m countin cards and I keep on winnin`
I know God hates me `cause I`m always sinnin`
U don`t know me blow me ho you wanna get hot
You`ll get your ass blown out f**kin with the kid rock
Eatin up ya suckers just the same way a beast could
Tearin thru your town like muther f**kin clint eastwood
`cause I be fakin the rhymes that keep ya shakin`
Makin a lotta money but don`t let me be mistaken
I never thought about climbin up the pop chart
And I don`t give a f**k u can`t buy my tape in k-mart
Give me a choice between soundin like an ass wipe
Or sittin in an alley smokin crack from a glass pipe
I`d be as skinny as a junkie with the aids plague
But still I`d look better than a puppet tryin to get paid
Now check the rhyme as I climb and I co get rude
And send ya runnin` playin` pussy like shaggy and scoob
`cause I`m the wrong dude to f**k with my mouth is mental
And I`m a tear s**t up like they did in south central
Son of a bitch I`m the son of a bitch
Nobody ever loved u so you`re the son of a dick
I`m a product of a young girl top in her class
You`re a product of a hooker who was sellin that ass
And your styles in the past it`s old and dusty
So from now on I`m callin u m.c. crusty
`cause to face me u must be blitzed or blasted
So now I`m gonna drop ya like a hit of acid
And when I rip ya people they might stare
`cause I got more rhymes than donahue`s got white hair
An yo buck won`t you please be a friend
And tell your mom I wanna f**k and I`ll pick her up at 10