D12 - Cock and Squeeze lyrics

Yeah, y'all faggots
(Hear me? yeah ready set then take shit)
Y'all, the fuck? Who wanna battle, what?
None of y'all, do you? (no)
Dirty Dozen, Outsidaz (what?) bitch
Who wanna battle? Song dedicated to Geeney

Gimmie some hash
And when I trip nigga give me a mask
Then after that lend me your
Mag and gimmie yo' cash
That precious pen you call the life
I put it in too fast get in your ass if you
Unhappily leave Eagle Man (yeah)
You wanna see through glass
Don't pay much to breeze through class
(bitch) You broke as fuck and on
The bus because your evil smash
This shit is lethal fast, battle me
I keep you mad put you in a sleeper drag
Your ass to the reepers pad either blast


Or feel the wrath of my heater lad
Lyric punches makin meters blast
Turn your speaker out rear, club
Or anywhere where there's people at
They love my day
Couldn't care where they leave's you at
Your girl's a rat
Tell that ho I'm not gon' beep her back
Don't need her Glock
Got too many other neater rats
Who heater fat? I bet your gat
Ain't fuckin wit my gat i'm on the lyrics
Sayin the vocals that you almost clap
(clap clap) Don't clap
You mo' wack than a cold sack
You showin that when you blow
That's a known fact
Clone rap, suck a MC broad
Need to pick another fued
What? And find you a job
Or either go out and rob because
Rappin ain'tcha function, you outta place
Like a two of hearts and two of
Diamond in a game of spades
While my inovative ways
Shootcha lyrics to a blaze
Put a grimace on your grade
I'mma guiness on the page
The history, puttin
Suckin niggas out they misery
It's not a mystery, my victorys are bodacious
(hah)
It wouldn't matter if the judge is racist
And I was battlin your aces
In your bitches basement
I'm unfuck-witable, thats literal, face it
The general the sisters of a senate-al
Holdin on my genetals
Right before I send the blows
Down to earth like minerals
Even after centerfolds
(grr arf) the videos, my evil goes
Incognito hoes, I'mma skitle bros
Meena biter
I hope you niggas catch a case of arthrit ah
You ain't no riders
And still don't even have a slider
I D her when you need me
We gon' burst in into fighters
(yeah, yeah bitch) You motherfuckin tighter

Cock, and, squeeze, bust, Dirty Dozen
Don't fuck wit us
Detriot niggas roll deep, ho heat
And fuck Slick
Yeah, yeah bitch - stay off my dick!

That's the time that you up and
Cuttin you wit a knife
The situan, the alcohol bath for the night
Then watch the strugglin
You squeal for your life (uh huh)
Dump a radio bumpin your demo in
The bath wit the light
That's what I take from you
Meet you and fake humble
Attack your foundation until it crumble
So me and my dawg be on stumble
Come off 'gnac but stayin in the right mind
It's the blazin track and we're back
For fake individuals that rap
Screamin out they group name like
They scared and shit
Knownin that the Kon Artis
Come prepared wit clips
Full of them male scritches (what?)
You watch and take pictures
(how you do that?)
Notes and write down poets and 'bout
How I rap and get witcha
Told you niggas before we got much the game
Nuttin to lose
Corruptin the lives of all groups
Tie 'em up and put 'em
In situations to hurt 'em
Tie 'em up to trees
You was throwin darts at 'em
Wit venom in 'em, then murder 'em
Servin 'em right he be
The Kon Artis screech swervin the night
We rock from state to state
(uh huh) and city to city
You make us sick like a
Faggot tryin silicon titties
And already want a size D bra
I wanna die wit tight shit
Give it to y'all bleek raw, raw, raw, raw
Raw yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah


Gimmie a sicker than, check it out
I turn a hard nigga yellow
And bake his ass faster than a cheetah
Don't blaze no blunts
(uh huh) but I blaze them thangs
Amaze your gang, wit bullets
I rattle your frame
Who's that, bustin at, Big Suburban
Hustle that play wit three bitches alias
And four hustlers
Bustin three Glocks, on your block
Yellin my name loud
Puttin bombs inside your mailbox
And prepare docks - punch your dreadlocks
Wait for the cops
And tell 'em that yo' ass had
Beef wit Biggie and 2Pac i lit the flesh
(uh huh) shot bled to death (what?)
Like Red and Meth, you need the hoop-a
Shoop-a for battlin boards, got on a moyer
I sat on your horse
Got battled thanks to your tours
Show up at you
Battlin your eyecore, pure wit this shit
On your mic rip, you might slip, fall
Hang it up like Sonny, peace to
Rock 'til the early morn', shit is on
Gotta a problem fiend, fiend problems
My crew mug shot D-12 uglier
Than the green goblin
I bring fear too, horror, near you
A fact why nobody wanna hear you
You wack BITCH!
What the fuck you thought what happened
When bullets start collapsin your frame
Maintain to bring pain
Freestyle fanatic named Pete
First is off the paper
This one turn your auto vapor
Me, MC, the extraordinar', steppin on your
Screamin "7 Mile bitch, come from Runyan"
Hold down your fort, snort like cocaine
Richard Pryor, I clap more clips than
Yeah, yeah bitch, what the fuck you thought?
Ya niggas get caught short
I'm incredible like the hulk
Watchin the facet nigga, P-R, the letter O
My sex is hetero, cash checks like federal
Your hetero, bitch! Ha ha haha