6 Foot 7 Foot (7 Foot 8 Foot)

Lyrics

[Chorus: Harry Belafonte] Six foot, seven foot, eight-foot bunch Six foot-foot-foot-foot-foot-foot-foot [Verse 1: Violent J] Ahem, excuse my charisma like an escaped prisoner Hoes got me in some hot pursuit, 'cause I can shoot my jizzma Like a fire hose, I suppose my glowin' shine is my Proof from the truth, groups of hoes love my stigma I'm aloof and gone with my ninja poof like an enigma Suppose hoes fuck their neden holes with my action figure Dre and Snoop, stop the coupe, and your toupee'll split ya With my froze on my toes, King of Pop always hit ya Life is the shit, as fire brains out, Ozzy Jump out the lights into the pit, kamikaze Suck on a grenade, pop until your top splatter Serve it at your funeral, appetizer platter Headbutt a brick wall until your skull shatter Let a whore sit on your face, four-hundred pounds or fatter Don't matter, fuck your step sister, pussy drama Hit the Church of Scientology, a suicide bomber I'll be the first to admit it gets worse I'm a sex addict that'll stab your daughter, sister or your mama (Haha, or niece, cousins, auntie, grandma) [Chorus: Harry Belafonte] Six foot, seven foot, eight-foot bunch Six foot-foot-foot-foot-foot-foot-foot [Verse 2: Violent J & Shaggy 2 Dope] (I'm going back in, okay) I lost my mind, it's somewhere out there, missing Seen an elephant and a chipmunk fucking and tongue kissing Is that statutory? Do your thug thizzle, I ain't dissing Use to have rock guitars, but now they Bobby Marz missing Fade into obscurity, got one chance, don't blow this Didn't make it, fell underneath, no heart to show us Some hate us 'cause it's ICP they hear, they know this And downgrade they record companies like retards, Otis Talking to myself, please commit a mass murder Barbecue they bodies, want some cheese on your ass burger? Get served! I'm Shaggy the Clown, bitch nerd! I'm from Detroit Southwest, forty miles outta Shitsburg I flip birds, 40 bottles to your mouth Joey, you've got your own fucking album out So, real killer all day and forever When will we expire or retire? Bitch, never Every week we complete and freak a brand new endeavor I'm tryna fuck Whitney Peyton, she always hatin', though (Whatever) Nova Cockaswella, Blow The Product, Gayshawn I'm trying to hit that neden, I don't wanna do no gay song You looking for the rub? Shit, I'm looking for a rubdown Erotic city uptown, the psychopathic scrub clown Popping two adderalls, three Viagras, and molly Fucking two drunk cougars, back seat of a Denali ("Ugh!") Everything you ninjas drop, a complete miss But George daddy's pocket's deeper than the abyss Nice offices and studio that everyone uses So you must be magic, every move y'all make loses (Hahaha) Paper chasing, tell that paper I already caught ya Two paid off houses, two tuitions, I bought ya Adversaries all see cemeteries when I fought ya Told Michael Jackson's daughter fucking Janet as I watch ya (Ow!) Jumpsteady taught ya we ought to support our own goals With dicks like telephone poles, diggin' out hella blown holes Become us in our own clothes, no-finger gloves and white rags (Rags) Stunners like Stone Cold, we blingin' scrubs with hatchet flags (Flags) Some of us grown old, yet hotties fuckin' out pajamas Always my load, nutted in the eyes, excuse my manners [Verse 3: Lyte] Word to my mama, I'm hotter than lava, clean You all wanna be, I'm bombing your team, now it's a trauma scene I chopper it, I have you missing like Hoffa Like Dr. King, I got a dream, and the vision's so proper When it comes to cash, I'm a monster, 'cause all I do is seek guap (Uh) But I got the work stuffed in the pussy, that's a g-spot Keep sleeping on me, I'm in your dreams like Krueger Fuck how ya feeling, I'm a villain just like Lex Luther And your ho, I'ma do her, she 'bout to blow like a tuba You're talkin' wrong- pow! I'm lettin' go of that Ruger I be laughin' about your rappin' while I'm crackin' the ruler Shout out to Psychopathic for splittin' them half of that gouda They ain't live as I, I tear it up like a roofer (I) It's a small thing to a giant, and they be soft as a loofa J, mother fuckers already know that time for a show, I'm arrive when I load that 9 And I blow your mind from the floor on the grind, yes, I'm a pro when I rhyme, boss Throw 'em in the pile, make 'em go when I shine, for the dough, I climb, and I throw my sign Better get away, I'm gonna come for your throat and your spin, let it soak in you swine, pussy I'm a man of my word and I always be ahead I'm a bust, feel that rush, so you know it's me Fly City certified monstar, ya dig? Ya heard? Lizzle [Outro] Shing! 17 (Throw some Hatchet Man) 17 (Glaciers) 17 (Southwestern lights, it ain't a dream, disco ball) 17 (Glistening) 17 (Shing, shimmer, shing, shing) Haha