Creative Commons license
Jac, Jaccy, Jac Tha Ripper, Jac Tha Rippa, Ripper, Rippa, El
Jac is the guy that fucks your daughters, makes them cry, and sniffs their panties. He's the guy that pee's on your dog when you're asleep when the son of a bitch won't stop barking. He drinks beer and liquor like there isn't such a thing as alcohol poisoning, and he smokes cigarettes like he could beat cancer by flexing for 2 minutes. We could ALL learn a thing or two from this warm, loving man.
Song Info
Track Files
Lyrics
[verse]:[1]
ayo, what the fuck is wrong with this bitch
face lookin' like a horse's, cause it's long as shit
that wack audible noise, and that homo-ass voice,
soundin' like a gong was hit, and his songs are shit
I'd only quote 'em in hope of him quitting rap
going back to crack smokin', wack flowin' just doesn't describe
fucked up lines... or when he fuckin' whines
son wouldn't get bumped in the whip
if he was ridin' tahoes while takin' some dick
it's freakin' pathetic the way the beat is neglected
learn rhythm before spittin', son's in need of the lessons
ya' whole style's impressive... if it was ghost-wrote
by ten year old retards with the promise of ho-ho's
you're gettin' no-dough, your raps are trash,
and you spit 'em in slow-mo', and what the fuck's up with ya' mug
facial expression like ya' mans was squeezin' ya' nuts
you're a poster child for the suburban white rappers that suck
you can't rap in a beat's measure... I'm endin' this nightmare
with meds from heath ledger, you wouldn't suck so much ass
if you learned to speak better, mumblin' words, it's fuckin' absurd
the way he's cussin' and slurs, flow's choppy at best
you aint stopping a vet, but I'm stomping ya' chest
'till your pussy ribs break, you spit gay
from sucking richard simmons' dick, "hey!
I just want you to know, Mr. Mind Stalker, I don't mind stalkers
you're welcome to my home, I won't try -n- stop ya'"
and it's ironic that I mention dick dimmons
cause you're a fag and a half, and you probly' live wit' em
why the fuck did you even sign up, knowin' ya' rhymes suck
and I would've actually tried, but your rapping is like
having a line, of cocaine and bleach packed to the back of my iris
and stitched shut, half of my eyelids... painful as shit
you spitting? shameful as dick, finale needs an attorney
for helpin' with rapin' this kid, I'll sleep through the tourney
if the competitors compete by bein' weak beat meddlers...
so if this wack fiene is actually a bad dream,
I'm wakin' up from his bad rapping, by popping black emphatimienes
