I get butt naked, that’s how I always start my raps off
Hop in a stolen Russian rocket and blast off
Recall an Ashcroft
I’m chilling in front of a Corona factory drinking
Budweiser and Mad Dog
I got the lyrical talent to smash niggas
Blast niggas, especially arrogant brash niggas
Ask niggas, everyone’ll tell you the same
I go from being a music business failure to fame
I straight bust into Sunday masses with ten Baptists
Beat Catholics with sacks of communion crackers
A great fascist, I spit deeper than Sage Francis
Then hop in a circle of high rastas and say pass it
I’m mad Gothic, I punch gypsies and smack prophets
With old pictures of Marilyn Manson and black lockets
I’m that awkward, paint my nails with black markers
And sacrifice pigeons with potions made out of hawk turds
On altars I make with milk cartons
I can bend over and cassate with spells farting
While fantasizing about absolutely heinous scenes
My dreams, I fantasize about the strangest things
I fantasize about punches faces
Fantasize about Caucasian atheist racists who hate Haitians
I fantasize about kicking people down flights of stairs
And pushing people off of moving trucks tied to chairs
I fantasize about em lying there
Fantasize about Halloween and all the small children I’ll try and scare
Dressed up like a giant bear, passing out candy to only kids
Dressed like jokers with the others screaming I ain’t fair
I fantasize about stealing vets
I fantasize about dressing like a ninja sneaking in and killing pets
From Rotts to Pit Bulls and faggot Poodles
Then writing the ransoms for their bodies on magna doodles
I’m straight spittin', knock you higher than space missions
Then rip a rapper to shreds and litters like eight kittens
Just for disrespecting, on a mission on which I’m destined
To find the answers to all types of deep mystic questions
Like why are you queer? Hop in a car and drive at you near
Enough for our vehicles to give each other five with the mirrors
Then punch you right in the chest as hard as I can
Then watch you gasp while you crash with your heart in my hand
You started it, that’s what you get, easy as that
Question and it’s highly unlikely I’ll leave you intact
I used to battle, none of them MC’s will be back
They disappeared like W.M.D.s in Iraq
And now I just rap for kicks it ain’t even challenging
Assassination for hire, you can pay me in halogenes
I’m nuts. Still convinced that I’m Jesus’ eighth cousin
I’m battling nature, step to the trees and just straight bust it
You like clubbing? While you and your crew are sipping on Hennies
I’m out in the parking lot with new equipment and bennies
And plastic explosives, so when the party’s hitting sho nuff
As soon as you shut the door and start your whip it blows up
Wack rappers yearn to be me but they lack factors
With their haphazard verses and speech and their caps backwards
Hurting for beats so they hack Napster
Come up with clever choruses and drop vocals on Aftermath masters
Try to start their careers off with mixtapes
They just fake like the so called mucous that causes queers coughs
Drinking Smirnoffs and popping Crystal
But you’re artificial like the contents of Britney Spears bras
I’ll bite your whole album just to make it sicker
I’m sicker than twenty fat ladies playing naked twister
I’m sicker than booger-picking loud annoying kids at key club
I’m sicker than sitting down on toilets with the seat up
Yo, I’m fearless like militia minute-man men
Leave a handprint right across Jackie Chan’s chin
I stand in ten foot pits naked covered with syrup
While niggas pour buckets of African ants in
You can’t win, that task is impossible sorry
Like driving after twenty glasses and shots of Bacardi
I’ll smash in your living room crash Irv Gotti’s Ferrari
And ruin you and your crew’s faggot Bath and Bodyworks party
I know you have em, even though you’re hard on your songs
At night you kick it by campfires and all try to bond
You sit around sniffing candles and march by a pond
While I walk around on nude beaches in barbwire thongs
I’m that raw, my pain threshold is real soothing
I like eating sushi that’s so fresh that it’s still moving
When asking this venue if I can rock they said fo sheezy
But they stopped letting me battle cause I stalk whoever beats me
I got problems with that, in fact I got problems with rap
I got problems with big-headed MC’s talking their crap
Calling me out saying that you’re the best
I won’t battle I’ll grab your hair and shove your mouth into a hornets nest
Thinking the Jokerr ain’t bring it, go on and say that
I’ll beat ya to death with a sock screaming “Homey don’t play that”
It’s like everyone thinks that they’re the greatest but no one knows it
And every one of you are afraid it’s just no one shows it
So let me give you some good advice rappers just listen
Learn to carry yourselves humbly and brag when you spittin'
Cause I’m a surgeon and I hurt faces
I’ll seal arrogant rappers mouth shut like Neo on the first Matrix
That’s why the Jokerr’s here, to smoke and sear
Then poke a spear of reality into you and evoke your fear
I got the most powerful mind in existence
I force you to feel my presence like blind kids at Christmas
I’m sicker than AIDS, friendly like drunk groupies
I’m more raw than sushi and stankin' like skunk booties
With protest gross and just sick flows
I kick a hundred bars so hard that I break both of my big toes
I spend my Sunday mornings in Latter-Day Saint halls
Wait for all the funny Mormons and cap em with paintballs