you know i got the mad wunz
you know i got the mad wunz
straight out the plaque like a smoke from a stack
it's the masta ase honey better chill and catch a smack
to the left check if you speak freak watch your mouth
cause i'm gettin play all the way down south
and you got beef well make stew
you hold the bowl and i'll do the pourin
rhymes are abundant like shells on the shore and
three little pigs made a song out of sand
the big bad ase'll blow them rhymes down man
cause yo i'm not a sailor and my name is not barnacle bill
but i run game like a carnival
don't try to flex or you'll fall like september
still got a posse just add another member
lord d [the d stand for digga
rollin' with umdada masta ase is my nigga]
punks better slow down and check the speed limit
get too much light and i'mma dim it
so yo bust the flex and turn in your text
and let me break down the law
i stay away from sluts got respect for my dick
and st. ides'll probably kill my ass just as quick
how many brothers do i know on rikers island?
one two three four five i'm losing count
but no matter what the sum it's too big of an amount
you sound fresh but i'm fresher
yessir you'll get torn and
i got magic in my johnson like potion
try to play me ashe you'll get rubbed like lotion
must to blow your trouble with the c-cypher power
in cali they call em one time they be gafflin every hour
which means they be knockin
baby doll i got the wrench
i like the lowriders with the daytons nice and shiny
if you in the west you got the best you get the heiny
on the other hand uptown at the apollo
chromed out with no tints and hammers make em follow
i say i never get too caught up
because i know easy come easy go
nuff respect to the women with the job skills
cause i'm not the one to play piggyback
so take the crack between your legs and find another attack
keeps me a healthy happy home
you know i got the mad wunz
i'm hot like clothes in the dryer
i got skills that you can't comprehend
i got beats that never come to an end
i rock like your grandmother's chair
peace to graffiti writers everywhere
ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall
they'd probably drink em all
but i don't want a murder
and i never heard of your
so save the flack for roberta
and leave on the midnight train the midnight to georgia
you probably didn't know but i inflict a lot of pain
don't sleep or you'll be having nightmares like dana dane
i don't mean to be precocious but uhh
i'm stompin on mc's with my boots like roaches
the playmate of the month's not the one
though on low she would get done
i got the wunz that are crazy type mad
the bass'll make you sick and make your ears go bad
before i have to say another rhyme on the mad wunz
you know i got the mad wunz