Mother Nature’s Son

Verse 1:

I'm unsuitable, my thug music sound beautiful
I come in Bad Taste, like sniffin' cane before a funeral
Then pass out, chokin' on blood, we gun thugs
I heard your mom does dot com chicks with butt plugs
Mountains of blow, smoke an ounce then bounce to the show
Countin' my dough, we Angel Dust space legends
You get your face shredded, evil fuck since I was a kid
I like robbin' cribs, picture that like PMD did
Paranoid type, we runnin' 'round with infrared lights
I got a squad o' midgets, scumbags who slang and shoot dice
Fuck a based thug, illegal shit, fiction hate club
Fuck thе dick, bitch, I'm laughin' 'cause I see what hate does
Spеakin' in codes, DVD receivin' my flows
Bonded by Blood, warrior drums, project thumps
And torture tactics like the Egyptians, mutilation in lumps
10 shots to your ribcage, the ghetto kincaid
Elderly rampage, knife point chains and switchblades
Pervert laureate, I leave crowds amazin' afraid
Sniff a 8, that's the reason Mitch strange, I'm ballin' out
$50 blunts, below the weed be fallin' out
I'm here to get the belt, Uncle Howie TEC glisten
Non Phixion world tour, got my shit hittin' in state prison

Verse 2:

Ronnie called, said we gotta dig a hole for some pigs
Wench in the crib
I smelled her from the stench in his fridge
Keepin' the chicks on booze, they better broken in debt
Hopeless and stressed, we fed 'em all coke to forget
Garbage bag 'em
20 TECs to the windpipe
Sit tight
My surgical gloves service a midwife
Sprinkle powdered X
Trifle on the blonde beaver
Ayo, Satan's back and he just made the cover of Don Diva
Some male order teens from Philippines
Sex puppet, quadriplegic, with bigger tits from Creatine
Thuggin' it, me and my drug covenant, we on some money shit
Thorazine, bitches fillet, stay in my dungeon pit

Verse 3:

We carry heat
Howie rock the whole fleet
Caddie jeeps, heated seats
Party favors, snow, in iceberg sheets
I like chicks with over-bites, make the urinal sweet
Pullin' my meat, bust off, we tossin' off on they cheeks
Some rap sadists, with homemade blades and face lifts
I'm from Brooklyn, home of the beat box and rapists
Now I cruise Cali
Fuck jakes, fakes and cash whores
Drivin up the coast, cocaine stuck to my dashboard
Y'all bitches nauseate me
Knowing that scorn is a tool
You're mad corny 'cause you probably watch porn for the dudes
Sellin' your M3 for AZT in a test tube
'Cept it's too late, the man-made serum infects you