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The Cosmic Joke dressed up in a meat bag.
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #1,689
Peak in subgenre #791
Author
Loka Muthafucka
Uploaded
April 05, 2007
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.0 MB • 56 kbps • 5:06
Story behind the song
How many Slimwannabez may be out there? Probably a couple, haha, and this is for all of'em!
Lyrics
[Verse.1.]
The stupid new kid was pukin’ ‘cuz he took it;
a good hit, that should hit good,
but he misunderstood and got wounded
when he fell to the floor
like the bell on the door
let’s not dwell on this poor
bastard;
he woulda never mastered this hazard,
if he couldn’t stop using this plastic bag
he fastened to the only ass he had;
Sure it went bad when his bladder splattered
when he had it …
Let’s forget it; I’m only glad it
didn’t gather a bunch of zombies
from one of Steve King’s prom parties,
with moms with open arteries stuck in their panties,
like beein’ on acid in the forgotten city of Atlantis;
you’re a fanatic if you think I’ma mix Cannabis with this,
to make it all look like a mad, fuckin’ bad Quiz,
‘But Slimwannabe, let me see, how’s it gonna be?
You’a be an MC? Aint that a bit crazy?
Aren’t you a bit lazy? Spacy?
Or maybe _way_ too hazy?’
‘Yes, may be, but may be
one day I might be, ready to fight he
who inspired me; Oh, how glad won’t I be,
when I see that he likes what I do, or not,
to him, I may be pooh or snot,
he may want me to visit a zoo’n’rot,
then he’ll haunt me and taunt me,
in the next song he makes,
he’ll show he won’t use no brakes,
in tellin’ me that I belong to the fakes;
I’ll probably end up in a bakery, bakin’ fuckin’ cakes.’
[Verse.2.]
Please put me down again;
I can not see the ground from here,
you see, I got this pot from a friend
who said I could swap identities with a pen,
if I popped it right away; ‘No way!’
I said, like a ‘happy-go-glad’,
‘rap-to-be-mad’,
but I do not do that, to be slapped on my ass,
but I kept the fuckin’ grass, so I could smoke it fuckin’ fast;
a bowl of fuckin’ hash, oh, yo, the fuckin’ stash;
come blow the fuckin’ trash! … uh … trash?
No, I do not mean that, I could not mean that,
I would not mean that; only a dream I had
where the surreal realities of my madcap
would go to a band camp, and push the bad tramp
into the fuckin’ lamp *Dsh*
Like a lightning blast; a frightening outcast
with vast past experience in igniting gas,
and fighting, I guess, but Princess, please
don’t squeeze these
nuts you hold in your hands!
‘Oh, geeze, damn, please, stop it!’
*Bang*
‘Oh, fuck it, now you’re dead’, I said,
and put the power back into my head,
you should’ve stayed in Super Mario, bitch,
this aint no scenario for children’s shit,
so put an other channel on, yeah, switch it
so I can keep spittin’ it, kickin’ it,
but be aware of your bikini split,
‘cuz I can see your fuckin’ dead tit in it!
[Verse.3.]
This is the last verse, the conclusion to all;
the first burst of echo calls
from the hall of thirsty gecko balls,
a roll of freakin’ techno-pause;
the soul of tickin’ zero pulse,
see no cause in this incident,
it’s evidently an accident, so relax my friend;
don’t you chew those tampax again,
and don’t you ever put wax on a pen,
just to tax on them
who packs on old men’n’women,
just to see them swimmin’,
‘till they think they’re dreamin’,
so they’re creamin’ in the water,
and you feel like a fool,
‘cuz you know that means shit in the pool,
yeah, pretty uncool to be smellin’ someones poo
when you got water in your eyes, and you realize
that the water is brown and packed with flies,
so you scream out to the skies; to every bird that flies by;
‘Why Lord, Why?!”
But he won’t bother answering you that;
he’ll just turn you down flat,
dust by burn you out rat;
Set fire to the machinery, and if you’d been me,
to see this scenery;
Let the bobble slip,
and the goble-goble skip;
double woble trip;
but let us be free to see an Uzi,
usin’ a PC,
Geezus, this shit’s so cheezy,
you see?
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