Song parody of
Fiddle Man
by Josh Fisher
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So you wanna fight fire
I'm a keep on burning ya
I'm at ya girls house
Fucking on ya furniture
When it comes to this mic
I am a murderer
Pussy you a has bin
Fuck it I ain't heard of ya
I make songs for real killers
And O.G.'s
The type that sell blow
And sniff coke till they nose bleed
It's crack, tracks for the addicts
And dope fiends
I'm lost, living off of loss
And old dreams
I'm a live it to the finish line
I am not afraid to eat
When it's dinner time
Don't be funny with my money
Cause I'm getting mine
I ain't afraid to kill em slow
Like I'm making wine
I'm drinking cups
Of the blood of Jesus
Never went to see a doctor
But I fucking need it
You could say I speak the truth
But I've never seen it
If I say it to your face
Then I fucking mean it
Gather up ya guns son
We going to war
Cause Trumps a fucking idiot
And Hillary's a whore
Billy Getting his dick sucked
Behind closed doors
Taking off tax
You can never afford
All these memories are stored
Brain cells are shell shocked
With raps so hard
More bars than cell blocks
I level with the devil
And I never will tell cops
I stuck a fucking brick of c4
In your mailbox
I got that cocaine chemistry
Try to break bread
I just make more enemies
Burners in both hands
Like Sam from Yosemite
Bodies in my backseat
Deader than a Kennedy
I think I got my mind
All mixed up
I have to admit that
I'm a bit of a sick fuck
I'm sorry to ya girl
That i called her a bitch slut
For real she should chill cause
She's kind of a big cunt
So you wanna fight fire
I'm a keep on burning ya
I'm at ya girls house
Fucking on ya furniture
When it comes to this mic
I am a murderer
Pussy you a has bin
Fuck it I ain't heard of ya
I make songs for real killers
And O.G.'s
The type that sell blow
And sniff coke till they nose bleed
It's crack, tracks for the addicts
And dope fiends
I'm lost, living off of loss
And old dreams
I'm a live it to the finish line
I am not afraid to eat
When it's dinner time
Don't be funny with my money
Cause I'm getting mine
I ain't afraid to kill em slow
Like I'm making wine
I'm drinking cups
Of the blood of Jesus
Never went to see a doctor
But I fucking need it
You could say I speak the truth
But I've never seen it
If I say it to your face
Then I fucking mean it
Gather up ya guns son
We going to war
Cause Trumps a fucking idiot
And Hillary's a whore
Billy Getting his dick sucked
Behind closed doors
Taking off tax
You can never afford
All these memories are stored
Brain cells are shell shocked
With raps so hard
More bars than cell blocks
I level with the devil
And I never will tell cops
I stuck a fucking brick of c4
In your mailbox
I got that cocaine chemistry
Try to break bread
I just make more enemies
Burners in both hands
Like Sam from Yosemite
Bodies in my backseat
Deader than a Kennedy
I think I got my mind
All mixed up
I have to admit that
I'm a bit of a sick fuck
I'm sorry to ya girl
That i called her a bitch slut
For real she should chill cause
She's kind of a big cunt
