...yea yea...I'm the illest...g'head-n-say it Vise:)...u too Fwed:)...MUAH!...;)...
Story behind the song
...I'm too ill...BEEYATCH!!!...
Lyrics
First off fuck tha Admins...J Twins call it quits/
CED...yea u cool...but Apear throws alcoholic fits//
But enough fuckin around/
Tha Beatles died...so what?!...now Paul Macartney's puttin it down?!//
Huh Cut Throat!?...what hoe!?...my neck ain't even swolen//
And shit you ain't Cut~Throat...you're more like Ron Goldman//
Fuckin textcee...and bitch when you took the mic/
I knew that I was shittin on an Austin Powers look alike//
Fuckin bitch...fuck a Brit...all up on my nuts-n-dick/
Now get a mic or get back...you only hard when you typin in caps//
Just stick to writin like that...faggot//
So just watch ya mouth...but if you ask me/
I wouldn't do it...cuz we know British cats got some bad teeth//
That keep you slurrin like clips/
Cuz when you runnin ya lips...it's cuz they tryna get away from them shits//
Ehhh...so keep ya trap shut/
Ya grill looks like a Mack Trucks//
But fuck it...why is Twins only known to date fat sluts!?//
He'd be better off meetin em online/
And be like..."yea I'm sagatarias baby girl what's ya sign"//
Well okay...just check tha girls that he pulls/
Then check their scale...shit it's clear that they're Taurus the Bull//
But he won't learn so.../
He'll spit game w/ his keyboard while he's gettin tips from Inferno//
Like..."yea man...this is how u get respect see"/
Sound like Nelly...then put a bandaid up on ya left cheek//
But hey...whatever works...cuzz see y'all just fake/
(HOLUP!)...SKEPTIK STOP LAUGHIN OR YOU'LL CHOKE ON THAT CUPCAKE//
But back to twins look/
When people say ya nose is running...it's cuz it's in tha shape of a small foot//
I hate to be mean dude/
But when ya skinny ass took ya picture sideways...we couldn't see you//
You're from the windy city...and barely way a pound/
So when you go outside...ya mom has to tie you to the ground//
Otherwise your blown away...tryna be Vise's protege//
Plus a straight hater...follow in CEDs footsteps and take some weight gainer//
And a few days later...we'll see him in a courtroom in his skinny form/
Michael Jackson got off...well so did Twins...to some kiddy porn!//
Shit I ain't lyin...the girls he fucks w/ are really kids/
If you subtract their age from his...you'd end up with twenty-six//
And I would kill Skeptik...but there's a problem with this shit/
The diminsions of his coffin would break the laws of physics//
But "listen listen"...fuck ya casket/
You say "listen" so much...cuz we lost interest in ya wack shit//
But Steven here uses Pro Tools...so why/
Does he mix his vocals so low they sound lo-fi?!//
I'll tie a twinky around his neck to make this bitch run/
He'll start chokin on his throat-n-sound like Big Pun//
I'm aimin for y'all...I dare you to try to stop me/
I got red dots all over the site...like Phate's Body//
Heheh...WUDDAP FAMZ!...I saw you murder Cut~Throat/
But shit...was that hard!?...hahahahahaha...FUCK NO!!!//
I'll slit ya throat...until you soundin like like Red Fox/
"Fuck slittin her throat...cut this bitches head off"//
I swear these textcee's are on their period watch/
They're gonna get mad and get a mic out their cereal box//
And sound like superskills...cuz they can't avoid it/
Yea I got a super in my buildin...but he cleans tha toilet//
So fuck y'all...so fuck y'all...so fuck y'all...wack muthafucka's/
Ih-hih ih-it's Hemisphere I'm back muthafucka's//
Tha sites been lonely without me/
So I'll end this shit with a freestyle...fuckin hopin you'll doubt me//
Fuck y'all...L.O.C is boycottin ya web page/
The only ones left on the site are the admins-n-Fraze//
Back in tha days...I would care for a response/
But you faggots get what you got fuck it I'm droppin bombs//