Cock And Squeeze

Lyrics

[Intro: Bugz] Yeah, y'all faggots— (Hear me? Yeah.. ready set.. then take shit) Y'all, the fuck? Who wanna battle, what? None of y'all, do you? (no) Dirty Dozen, Outsidaz (what?) bitch Who wanna battle? Song dedicated to Geeney.... [Verse 1: Bugz] Gimmie some hash, and when I trip nigga give me a mask Then after that lend me a mag and gimmie yo' cash That precious thing you call a life, I put an end to, fast Get in your ass if you unhappily leave Eagle Man (yeah) You in a see through glass, don't pay much to breeze through class (bitch) You broke as fuck and on the bus because your Regal's smashed This shit is lethal, fag, battle me, I keep you mad Put you in a sleeper, drag your ass to the reaper's pad Either blast, or feel the wrath of my heater, lad Lyric punches makin meters blast, turn your speaker out Rear, club, or anywhere where it's people at They love my tape, couldn't care where they leave's you at Your girl's a rat, tell that ho I'm not gon' beep her back (beep, beep) Don't need her, black, got too many other neater rats Who heater fat? I bet your gat ain't fuckin wit' my gat I'm loading lyrics, sayin' the vocals that you almost clap (clap clap) Don't clap, you more wack than a cold sack You shown that when you blow, that's a known fact Clone rap, sucka MC fraud, need to pick another fued What? And find you a job, or either go out and rob because Rappin ain'tcha function, you outta place Like a two of hearts and two of diamond in a game of spades While my innovative ways, shoot ya lyrics to a blaze Put a grimace on your grave, I'mma Guinness on the page The history, putting sucka niggas out they misery It's not a mystery, my victories are bodacious (hah) It wouldn't matter if the judge is racist And I was battling' your aces in your bitches basement I'm unfuck-witable, thats literal, face it, the general The sisters of a senate-al, holdin on my genitals Right before I send the blows, down to earth like minerals Even after centerfolds (grr arf!) the videos, my evil goes Incognito hoes, I'mma skitle bros, meaning biter I hope you niggas catch a case of arthrit-ah You ain't no riders, and still don't even have a slider I D' her when you need me, we gon' burst in into fighters (yeah, yeah bitch!) You motherfuckin biter [Chorus: Bugz, Denaun, Bugz & Denaun] Cock, aim, squeeze (squeeze, squeeze, squeeze), bust, Dirty Dozen, don't fuck (fuck, fuck, fuck) Wit us Detriot niggas roll deep, hold heat, and talk slick (ah) Yeah, yeah bitch - stay off my dick! [Verse 2: Denaun] That's the time that you up and cuttin you wit a knife The situan, the alcohol bath for the night Then watch the struggling, you squeal for your life (uh-huh) Dump a radio bumping your (cool) demo in the bath (cool) and your life That's what I take from you, meet you and fake humble Attack your foundation until it crumble So me and my dawg be on stumble Come off 'gnac but stayin in the right mind It's the blazin track and we're back, for fake individuals that rap Screamin' out they group name like they scared and shit Knownin that the Kon Artis come prepared wit clips Full of them male scritches (what?) You watch and take pictures (how you do that?) Notes and write down quotes and 'bout how I rap and get witcha Told you niggas before we got much the game Nuttin to lose, corruptin the lives of all groups Tie 'em up and put 'em in situations to hurt 'em Tie 'em up to trees, and shoot darts at 'em Wit venom in 'em, then murder 'em, servin 'em right He be, the Kon Artis {*screech*} swervin the night We rock from state to state (uh-huh) and city to city You make us sick like a fat bitch tryin' silicon titties And already wear a size D bra, I wanna die wit tight shit Give it to y'all bleak, raw, raw, raw, raw, raw Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah [Chorus: Bugz, Denaun, Bugz & Denaun] Cock, aim, squeeze (squeeze, squeeze, squeeze), bust, Dirty Dozen, don't fuck (fuck, fuck, fuck) Wit us Detriot niggas roll deep, hold heat, and talk slick (ah) Yeah, yeah bitch - stay off my dick! [Verse 3: Proof] Gimmie a second, I'm iller than Mina, check it out I turn a hard nigga yellow, and bake his ass faster than a cheetah Don't blaze no blunts (uh-huh) but I blaze them thangs Amaze your gang, with bullets, I rattle your frame Who's that? Bustin at, Big Suburban, hustle that (yeah, y'all niggas [?]) Play wit three bitches alias and four hustlin' Bustin three Glocks, on your block Yellin my name loud, puttin bombs inside your mailbox (pow!) And prepare docks - punch your dreadlocks, wait for the cops And tell 'em that yo' ass had beef wit Biggie and 2Pac (what?!) I lit the flesh (uh-huh) shot bled to death (what?) Like Red and Meth, you need the hoop-a, shoop-a For battlin boards, got on a moyer, I sat on your horse Got battled thanks to your tours, show up at you Battlin your eyecore, pure wit this shit On your mic rip, you might slip, fall, hang it up Like Sonny Corleone, peace to Borleone Rock 'til the early morn', shit is on Gotta a problem fiend, fiend problems My crew mug shot D12 uglier than the Green Goblin (Green Goblin) I bring fear too, horror, near you A fact why nobody wanna hear you, you wack, bitch! What the fuck you thought what happened When bullets start collapsin your frame? Maintain to bring pain, freestyle fanatic named Pete First is off the paper, this one turn your auto vapor Me, MC, the extraordinar', steppin on your bunion Screamin "7 Mile bitch, East-side, come from Runyan" Hold down your fort, snort like cocaine Richard Pryor, I clap more clips than the livest squire Yeah, yeah bitch, what the fuck you thought? Ya niggas get caught short, I'm incredible like the hulk Watchin the facet nigga, P-R, the letter O My sex is hetero, cash checks like federal Yo head'll roll, bitch! Hahahaha