it all falls to pieces like tha morning-after pill to a fetus, dreamin’ I’m walkin’ with a sock on my penis like Flea ‘n’ Toney Kiedes / tha most pekid, choppin’ MCs like a Cuisinart, I speak holy shit like a Jesus fart / I narrate novels that would topple Aristotle ‘n’ send you baby snakes back to your bottles / my thoughts lop tha top of your noggins off, knock it off, y’all ain’t no MCs, any race color or creed / greed rears its ugly head when I smell pink, petite bitches with chunky rears, they all look like Playboy Bunnies from tha rear / it’s all lovely here, blow a 20, drink some beer / trade ya cufflinks for a quarter-ounce, get a tenderloin like a porterhouse / grab tha dual-edged sword in my trousers ‘n’ cut from ya mouth to your vocal cords / cut off your witty retorts before ya have tha effin’ chance to spit ‘em out…
Any errors in Twisted's lyrics are solely that of typist & not in any way reflective of Twist's original handwritten work. Twist reviews typewritten work sent him by snail mail, any needed corrections are made & returned via snail mail from Twist who is in belly of beast.
Twisted Science's incarcerated dart slangin'
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