Blaze Ya Dead Homie, Violent J - Mr. Dead Folx lyrics
[Blaze Ya Dead Homie, Violent J - Mr. Dead Folx lyrics]
No questions for you too ask
No gats for you to blast
No money, weed, no cash
It's time to get in that ass
Mr dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie
Don't be acting like you don't see me
Believe me man you don't know me
I was the first to put it down
Reppin' with Twiztid and the clowns
Kicking the gangsta sounds
Strictly keep it underground
Lotus in the family, you now how we do
Coming for ours and won't hesitate
To ride on you
Record sales don't make you bulletproof
Big time
And we both know you don't be doing
That shit that's in your rhymes
You ain't a G like me
You ain't the thug I be
You watered down, like the punks I see on MTV
Where you're motherfking trees
Always asking for smoke ain't it a bitch
Everybody a G when wearing Loc's
That's a figure of speech
And I be sick in the heat
Whoever think he the shit
Trying to claim my territory
I'm a motherfking G with
Heaters loaded and cocked
You's a small time pee-on
Braggin of running rocks
Bitch break yourself
For everything and then some
Hold the mic to my dick
So you can hear me when I cum
No questions for you too ask
No gats for you to blast
No money, weed, no cash
It's time to get in that ass
Mr dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie
Don't be acting like you don't see me
Believe me man you don't know me
Never ever was I a bitch hoe
You can put that on my ten-fold
Ma pop Grundy and them know I sicko
Baby boy got banana clips for his chopper
Known to bring drama somethin' proper
Check nuts
Colton Grundy got handles, I got the J
So when I'm spiting from the big oh line
Nuts' in your face
Dead homie on a ho-port, smoking a Newport
Spiting at the bitches
And bumping that new Too Short
Life is nothing I can even they to relate to
For real though
Being dead is serious, it change you
All I got left in this world
Is my music to play
So you correct if you thinkin'
That I'ma do my thang
And all the thugs that wit me
Throw your shit in the air
And wave those motherfkers side to side
Like you don't care
And if you feeling like I'm feeling
Then it's plainy clear
'Cause it's a whole bunch of
Dead folk chilling in here
No questions for you too ask
No gats for you to blast
No money, weed, no cash
It's time to get in that ass
Mr dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie
Don't be acting like you don't see me
Believe me man you don't know me
It's me and Blaze
Drunk driving in an 87 Cutlass
Taking turns at the wheel while
The other claps motherfkers
You're chick, I'm dicking that
Wicked shit, I'm kicking that
I'm hitting with the
Quickness, life's stinking
Where the chickens at?
You made a wrong turn coming down my block
I'll stop your car like I need help
And crack your head with a rock
Uh, Colton Grundy the only homie I got
Mr dead Folx sparking at the burial spot
We about to ride on the world
Leave it deserted like Mars
Get your wig spilt, by 40 juggalo rap stars
A little kid asked me if
I ever killed anybody (yes)
I told 'em that I did
And was warm and bloody i'm Violent J
I'll be around until my dying day
On tour smoking bud
And eating at the Flying J
Look me up under 'Juggla' and
You'll find my name and if you don't, then
You're dictionary's lame, motherfka!
No questions for you too ask
No gats for you to blast
No money, weed, no cash
It's time to get in that ass
Mr dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie
Don't be acting like you don't see me
Believe me man you don't know me
Mr Dead Folx
Believe me man you don't know me
No gats for you to blast
No money, weed, no cash
It's time to get in that ass
Mr dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie
Don't be acting like you don't see me
Believe me man you don't know me
I was the first to put it down
Reppin' with Twiztid and the clowns
Kicking the gangsta sounds
Strictly keep it underground
Lotus in the family, you now how we do
Coming for ours and won't hesitate
To ride on you
Record sales don't make you bulletproof
Big time
And we both know you don't be doing
That shit that's in your rhymes
You ain't a G like me
You ain't the thug I be
You watered down, like the punks I see on MTV
Where you're motherfking trees
Always asking for smoke ain't it a bitch
Everybody a G when wearing Loc's
That's a figure of speech
And I be sick in the heat
Whoever think he the shit
Trying to claim my territory
I'm a motherfking G with
Heaters loaded and cocked
You's a small time pee-on
Braggin of running rocks
Bitch break yourself
For everything and then some
Hold the mic to my dick
So you can hear me when I cum
No questions for you too ask
No gats for you to blast
No money, weed, no cash
It's time to get in that ass
Mr dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie
Don't be acting like you don't see me
Believe me man you don't know me
Never ever was I a bitch hoe
You can put that on my ten-fold
Ma pop Grundy and them know I sicko
Baby boy got banana clips for his chopper
Known to bring drama somethin' proper
Check nuts
Colton Grundy got handles, I got the J
So when I'm spiting from the big oh line
Nuts' in your face
Dead homie on a ho-port, smoking a Newport
Spiting at the bitches
And bumping that new Too Short
Life is nothing I can even they to relate to
For real though
Being dead is serious, it change you
All I got left in this world
Is my music to play
So you correct if you thinkin'
That I'ma do my thang
And all the thugs that wit me
Throw your shit in the air
And wave those motherfkers side to side
Like you don't care
And if you feeling like I'm feeling
Then it's plainy clear
'Cause it's a whole bunch of
Dead folk chilling in here
No questions for you too ask
No gats for you to blast
No money, weed, no cash
It's time to get in that ass
Mr dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie
Don't be acting like you don't see me
Believe me man you don't know me
It's me and Blaze
Drunk driving in an 87 Cutlass
Taking turns at the wheel while
The other claps motherfkers
You're chick, I'm dicking that
Wicked shit, I'm kicking that
I'm hitting with the
Quickness, life's stinking
Where the chickens at?
You made a wrong turn coming down my block
I'll stop your car like I need help
And crack your head with a rock
Uh, Colton Grundy the only homie I got
Mr dead Folx sparking at the burial spot
We about to ride on the world
Leave it deserted like Mars
Get your wig spilt, by 40 juggalo rap stars
A little kid asked me if
I ever killed anybody (yes)
I told 'em that I did
And was warm and bloody i'm Violent J
I'll be around until my dying day
On tour smoking bud
And eating at the Flying J
Look me up under 'Juggla' and
You'll find my name and if you don't, then
You're dictionary's lame, motherfka!
No questions for you too ask
No gats for you to blast
No money, weed, no cash
It's time to get in that ass
Mr dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie
Don't be acting like you don't see me
Believe me man you don't know me
Mr Dead Folx
Believe me man you don't know me