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alt hip hop
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PWNING SUCKERS, THE NAME IS KNUCKS A BADASS INTERNET GANGSTA' DELUXE
Song Info
Charts
#120,670 today Peak #1,005
#11,651 in subgenre Peak #100
Uploaded
May 05, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.2 MB 128 kbps 2:24
Lyrics
Let’s start this shit off with the kid Mickill The four foot eight bag of Massengill Thinks his hiphop knowledge is so damn ill But his favorite fuckin’ record is by Milli Vanill’ Mike you know it’s true Oooh oooh ooooh You look like that muthafuckin’ midget Tattoo Ricardo Montalban should be one of your crew But he’s not cause he knows how fuckin’ wack you are You order apple martinis when your at the bar Your posting skills are so sub-par You ain’t never gonna be a true message board star What about the girl who likes to post the most? You know the one that’s got the butt as flat as toast The one who never ever ever eats pot roast Hey step on up Coz and become a ghost So what you know karate and you got nun chucks You ain’t no match for the power of Knucks I’ll tie you up and force feed you ten roast ducks And you’ll be stayin’ up all night with the acid reflux And if Boomin’ wants a piece he can get some to Cut off his mop top and go and get me some glue Put it all over his body and by the time I’m through No more looking’ like Shaggy more like Scooby Do Next up is loser that we call Echewta So damn cheesey we should call him gouda Worships George Lucas like a monk does Buddha I’m a Harley and he’s a Razor Scoota All day the little nancey-boy makes bon bons And at night all he dreams about is riding ton tons He certainly ain’t the message board Don Juan More like princess Leigha than my main man Han His threads are nothing but poop on the screen How the hell did this asshole learn to type with his spleen? I bet he buys a lot of hookers just like Charlie Sheen How else could he get a lady to touch his little ween? Yo Q-Drop with me you got some beef Step on up son and I’ll kick you in the teeth Nah, I better not I might lose my sneaks Cause your muthafuckin’ grills just like a coral reef To talk that much shit I guess it’s gotta be that big Go ahead sucker put that in your sig Couldn’t handle beastie free man you flipped your wig Crash and burn just like a soviet mig But I still think you’re sexy, I can’t lie You look so good make a grown man cry I know you want to meet me dude, don’t be shy Let’s get together and make ribbons in the sky Hey G-mile quit using Migh T Fine It’s got to be the world’s worst pick up line It wouldn’t even work on a concubine With two wooden legs and a crooked spine And Turd you’re dirtier than a whole damn dozen Puddles of green puke growing fungus that’s fuzzin With flies all around just buzzin’ and buzzin’ What kind of sicko bastard wants to fuck his cousin? Jabumbo so hairy with a brain so slow Pack up your tuba man you got to go Mrs. Peachy you got so much sass I’m gonna take your fuckin’ mensa card and shove it up your ass And Zorra Chiflada you can dance the Lambada With Nuzzolese while listening to Slaughter Don’t stop the music I can keep this up Hey Paul Jones, man what’s up Goin’ out drinkin’ down at the pub? Or are you looking’ through sure shots givin’ your willy a rub
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