Do that shit, do that shit, do it

Here's a little story that must be told
About a crew that'll fuck around
And kill your soul

Fourteen carat junkie mouth
Forty-deuce let the monkey out
Flying guillotines drunk and loud
Buck em down
Too powerful for these cowards who
Rely on power tools like smart
Cards for buying food you liars is soft
I'm like that MIT professor that got caught
The Unabomber right before he
First popped off i'll Bill
This is for the glowing eye on the pyramid
For the cinnamon we copped
From them Dominicans it's him again
The broken 380 that popped twice then jammed
The boom right cop twice then scram
We the lost children of
The Babylonian emperor
Sent to war, saw decapitated heads galore
Wore the skin of polar bears
And great white sharks
And murdered those that sit around
Complain about "Ain't life hard?"
We the most despicable
Your head is so kickable
Let the pistol shoot splattering all
Of you little dudes listen goons

Yeah, I got these voices in my head
I'm trapped and I can't escape them
My sanity's a body of water
Whose dam is breaking reanimating my hatred
I'm standing holding cannons
Waiting to withdraw an alcoholic and
His fucking hands are shaking
Signs and symptoms, hallucinations, delusions
Intrusions of gruesome faces
I'm disillusioned and losing my grip
In between every cocaine drip saying, "Do
That shit, do that shit, do it"
I'm a timebomb ticking, ticking
Ticking you can hear it tick
I don't need a therapist to tell
Me that my spirit's sick
I'll fuck any bitch with a pussy
And a pair of tit's
I'll do anything for any paper
I ain't scared of shit
When the angel dust bone's lit
Yeah it smells funky
Walking through the doomsday streets
Like it's 12 Monkeys
Hell's junkies trail me like
A posse of fiends
It's like I'm lost in a posthumous
Dream with all the demons saying

Back to the future, blast from the past
A brand new religion for your stankin' ass
We pray, we fast, we conducting mass
Gangster, pop your gun, hooker
Shake your ass
Back to the future, blast from the past
A brand new religion for your stankin' ass
We pray, we fast, we conducting mass
Gangster, pop your gun, hooker
Shake your ass

Copyright: Exploration Group LLC, Peermusic Publishing, Royalty Network, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): ANTONIO EUGENE WILLIAM STITH, BISHOP PAUL SR BURRELL, DARRYL LYN JACKSON, DELANDO OMINGO CONNER, DOMINIC J. JORDAN, JAMES M. GIANNOS, SOLOMON DEWAYNE CONNER, STEVEN TOLSON