How many songs, son, how many songs?
Yo, son, it's like15
I dare a little punk to try to diss me
You wanna know why? Because
The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data
With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data
The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data
With the hardcore data because I spit on spectators
The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data
With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data
The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data
To smash motherfuckers to potatoes
The microphone mutilator, I bruise your crews and neighbors
Do you dudes a favor, show you how to use a razor
Are you a Buddha blazer? Yes, I get zooted major
And all you stupid haters, hit you with computer lasers
I got the smoothest flavor
Makin' moves, movin' makers
Off the roof, who's to save ya?
Who's ya savior?
Celph Titled the Rubix Ranger
Scoopin' paper when I'm doin' capers
And what's inside this bazooka case will shoot a crater
In your screw face and doofus gaffers
My ruthless anger got animal in the zoo behavior
Now who's the sprayer?
Lose your body in a lake or tombs or chambers
Where you'll consume fumes and vapors
We mash fucks like super potatoes
It's true we'll do fools in, bury them with the rutabagas
Sooner or later
Fine tuned parachuting invaders will tear through your Winnebago
Wearin' suits and aimin' aero fusion phasers
They talkin' mules and acres
I'm filmin' movies in Bermuda
On a cruise to Jamaica
I'm a front tooth eraser
You's a booty shaker
And you'll be found in a pool
With barracudas and gators
The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data
With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data
The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data
With the hardcore data because I spit on spectators
The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data
With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data
The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data
To smash motherfuckers to potatoes
I'm too real, I'll still will kill
No frills, no gold grills, hold still hooker, hoe chill
I know you smoke krills
You shouldn't go 'til I throw you out the mobile
In Mobile, Alabama, in a pile of ants and pajamas
Surrounded by a thousand salamanders
I'm a bust a round of cannons off camouflaged as a satanic Santa Claus
Ain't another man that's raw, you should turn your cameras on
'Cause I'm bringin' the blama sauce, the blicker oil
The trigger boilin' hot from firing shots, I'll spit it for you
I'll promise you that, ask mama who's back?
The motherfucking Montezuma of rap, hollering, blamp
And that's the way it goes down you fraudulent foe clown
I'm a put your skull in the dryer and watch it go 'round
I'm salutin' one for y'all, no more shootin' guns at all
I'm boostin' the son from God
The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data
With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data
The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data
With the hardcore data because I spit on spectators
The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data
With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data
The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data
To smash motherfuckers to potatoes
So, so, so when I walk in a club with black jeans and a white tee
You're on a walkie talkie callin' security
"Hurry please, it's Celph and he came strapped"
Bringin' so much pain that, you can't get enough Novocain packs
So insane in fact I was held captive
By unattractive cave women overdosed on Pro-Active
Yo, this that shit from the dynamite stick expert
With bottle rockets I flip with hotter objects of sex
And they flex in my bedroom
Legs spread, thick red head bitch, boom
With no freckles, she was actually half black Icelandic
I might land this Spanish, Italian, French
Or whatever the fuck airport they got
At my mansion the size of a Marriott
Yes, my rhymes are very hot
So where a vest 'cause when my CDs are pressed
They fly like Japanese Ninja stars and they'll injure y'all
The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data
With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data
The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data
With the hardcore data because I spit on spectators
The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data
With the hardcore data, with the hardcore data
The microphone mutilator with the hardcore data
To smash motherfuckers to potatoes
I told y'all motherfuckers, that's hardcore bitch, niggas
You're not hardcore motherfuckers, we buckwildin', yo Buck
You know you hardcore on this one, hardcore tracks
Bring that shit back, fuck that, yo