Story of Our Lives

[Verse 1: Monoxide Child]
I want everybody listening now to say this
Twiztid is the motherfucking shit
And everybody else that feels that I'm a little out of line
Come see me when you're hitting rewind
And you will find that I'm an ex con, serial killer
Axe wielding for realla big gorilla
As I walk in the shadow of death
I bitch slap his ass and then light a cigarette
I told you all I'm addicted to drugs and weird sex
And putting holes in the back of your neck carnival reject
Respect like you do the don dada
When you see me give your boy a holla
Got the world in a shock collar like a rottweiler on the loose
Running trains on your girl's caboos
Don't believe in a truce we're gonna fight until somebody here dies
We've been here since 1865 and no lies

[Hook: repeat 2X]
This is the story of our lives
Come and take a look in my eyes
Keep it real and tell me no lies
We've been waiting for you

[Verse 2: Jamie Madrox]
We came through the door kicking that bitch off the hinge
We was knocking but wouldn't nobody let us in
It's the incredible edible white chocolate rappers
We came on the scene busting your cabbage patch bakwards
D-I-T-Z-I-W-T
We was born connected at the hip like siamese
Twins we coming down with the underground sound
And one finger on each hand and you can count them

[Monoxide Child]
Fuck everybody here man it's not about them
And tucked inside of my bag is a problem
Underground, feel the ground shake
Feel it vibrate, watch your girl girate
We could move the whole world if we choose
But instead we kick the wickedest blues and I refuse to lose
To demographic and the people who choose
To put the hearts inside of the black magic (AND HERE WE GO)

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Jamie Madrox]
We write voodoo sayings on the fronts of t-shirts
So that when people read them they will become creatures
Still coming with the ultra man flow
That will linger in your brain and constantly echo
We ain’t in it to be rich we’re ready to reach folks
And change life and put you up on shit you ain’t know
That’s about it, you’re in the midst of some maniacs
Who will unload a microphone in your dome as if it’s a gat
So conceal the unreal if the fruit is mass appeal
We’re the worms eating away from under the apple peel
With all juice and no pulp fiction
No dollar ninety nine a minute for our predictions
We smash mics like with the rhymes we recite
Keep this motherfucker hype from now ‘til sunlight
Now do you really need a shovel to dig it
And with the flip of a coin we can be righteous or wicked

[Hook]

Skit