Lyrics:
Stone Mountain get the cheddar
(CHORUS)
Houston, Las Veg
South Central, Miami day
L.A. don't play
Cow J
Yo
Dirt teen
Yo, so I'm over
Yo buildin' an ATF
(and greg mack) the mack attack
And I also wanna thank j-ro and sweet tooth for comin out rockin
(and dj [name])
And I wanna thank scotty d, cold-crush
emergency
Bury me, mister I'm sick, I'm jump for joy
But quickly, in my disguise to finish the j-o-be
Ya see, I'm back on track, can ya get with that?
No,
If I could I'd change my name
To start with a "j" and end with an "I"
well he's got himself a band
And he prefers to stand
Up front at all the shows
up your ass, and pass the J
Niggas from Detroit don't play, hey
You better raise up
And watch me blaze up
Another cigarette
How hard can another
lamps, smokin a J
Hearing my Homie say, Homie pass the joint this way
And this was everyday and every night was the same
We didn't call each other by
Bird
Check out passes passed from Pistol Pete
And the way Dr. J made everything look so sweet
What about the tower called Wilt Chamberlain
a tractor as I bulldozer in those streets
Quiet is kept that I creep and knock you off yo feet
Then meet yo name the next day at yo j-o-be
Hurricane Yella
niggas making true scratch
Who's that Mic in the maxima with j-mac
Fagbag because he'll never like to do much
Hatin studs and actin tough'll make you
[DJ Paul, Project Pat, Juicy J. (Chorus x4)]
Pure Anna for you hoes, Pure Anna for you hoes,
With the - with the hollow-point shells, man,
Man,
I am Elmer J. Fudd, millionaire
I own a mansion, and a yacht
And a car, and a plane, and a gun
And a drum machine, drum machine, drum machine
I gotta
about the bitch who screwed ya
There's a million who would do ya
Yr great, yr cute, yr smart, yr nice
Beck, 24
Hey boys, take my advice
J, 29
You
with, rub off?
Is that why me and Violent J love cutting bitches heads off?
Imagine everytime you woke up, you was getting choked up
And had to grab
don't know we be pimping in the clubs
With my man Jeff singing reggae dub with Perm, TM, Ian, and KG, Kirk E.
Fresh, me I'm Mingus and our boy J-E.
Merch
the urges
Unknown apocalypse of the seven churches
Floating on a magic carpet with a fat sword
It's Joe Bruce of the Lotus ward (J Tneloiv)
You can try
That dog is scaring me
Murder
I'm sexy
Shut the f*** up, b****
Quit telling me what to do
Blaze, J, Mono, Madrox
Is that you?
No, it can't be
Till it's time for you to fuckin' die
[Violent J:]
Baggin me
Pain
Suffering
Bang Bang
Chains
Devices
Torture things
Is this hell?
Might
You can bet Jinx is gonna cook this here
Half y'all niggaz lookin' shook in here, crooks in here
Tuck in your chain don't get jooks in here
J, I, N, X
to hide
(Whoa oh) I need some good love bad, j'ah
I need some good loving bad
Satisfaction I've got to hide
Before he drives me mad
I got to get her
wack
MC's and feel you up R&B button punching producers with juvenile beats
Demean creativity but we got the remedy
[Chorus]
[J
the gun
And let you pull the trigger little Bad Azz nigga
Set it off - them niggaz talkin', get it off
And money ain't a thang like J, bet it all for
And a fat ass J, of some bubonic chronic that made me choke
Shit, this ain't no joke
I had to back up off of it and sit my cup down
Tanqueray and chronic,
velvet, goons and clerics
New synthetic designer jewels for moods in deserts
In heaven and earth, barcodes to measure my girth
That's like the J
peux reprendre les clés
Je n'en ai pas de double
Reprendre ce que tu m'as donné
J'en ai gardé plus qu'il n'en faut
Plus qu'on en trouve
A trop
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