Sick Shit

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Curtis Foster

2:26

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Ayyo, pass the torch to me
It’s Curt Voorhees with a sickening score of screams
In the background, it’s that sound when I’m torturing
Cannibalistic, I’m famished, but I’mma need more emcees
Sweatin’ so hard, you see my fuckin’ pores? They’re gleaming
I’m between scenes of wicked cinematic-ish scheming
Dry heaving between each these breaths I get as I’m fiending
For these indecent plots, it’s the motley behemoth
I’m not sinister, I’m just cynical
So bottom-feeding I’ll prolly be never reaching my pinnacle
I’d rather just shit on those in my way like an obstacle
Obstinately dropping my posterior to pinch a loaf
Dry humor like I’m laughing with bronchitis
Inside of my lungs like I’ve summoned some Newport-itis
Far from the highest, I’m imbibing, I’m driving
Puttin’ the iron to tires while I’m igniting the fire
Overdriving the engine, fry it, silence, I hear the sirens
Only way to escape is to make up a fuckin’ violent pileup
It’s all in jesting, you distorting the message
You give importance to questionable shit
And then you call it offensive
Sick shit, sick shit, why’s it so cryptic?
Curtis Foster lost his marbles, he’s gone ballistic!
Sickness, sickness, can I get a witness?
Break stuff like you listenin’ to Limp Bizkit
Thoughts coded in numerical codex like sudoku
Beefcake bitch, do I look like I’m eatin’ tofu?
I’m watching all of these flicks on my frickin’ Roku
No new, Jamie Lee in Halloween, that’s old school
This is soul food, you hearing these lyrics?
You got a spirit? I’ll take a fuckin’ bomb to it like I’m Goku
Get freezed up like Frieza, this is all-out war we havin’
So why the hell you out and about seeking peace, bruh?
To maintain the claim to my name in this game
I overcame the rain as I braved a mountain of doubt and shame
It’s all the same to me like a caucasian naming scheme
Mike, Joe, Bob
Karen, Amy, Stayphanie…
F*ck, I meant Stephanie
Whatever, just let it be
If you bashing, kiss my ass
Go ‘head and select a cheek (This one!)
This shit is my destiny
If you disrespectin’ me I’mm tear that ass apart
And I’m not talking about no lechery
Treacherous, shark-infested waters
Conjured from the marijuana
Ganja, the chronic you puffin’ got you gone off to Havana
Sweatin’ when you step to me like you stepped right into a sauna
Bobbing like a buoy, bitch, welcome to my new disorder
Sick shit, sick shit, why’s it so cryptic?
Talk behind my back, yeah, that’ll get you on my shit list
Sickness, sickness, can I get a witness?
What the f*ck you want from me this Christmas, a dick pic?
Sick shit, sick shit, why’s it so cryptic?
Curtis Foster lost his marbles, he’s gone ballistic

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