just don’t get a fuck

And today, a song.  It is to be sung to the tune of Eminem’s Just Don’t Give a Fuck (YouTube link also has the “old” lyrics).  Or, listen to the fifth track of this.  I think this song will remain a hostage, for a while.

Introduction
Whoa!
Ah get your hands outta the air, and quit fukkin clappin’ umm.
And like, back and forth, because ah
This is, what you thought it wasn’t

It means the brother ain’t reppin’ fuckin’ no one.
I be the S L O ta double B’ eh.
Check out the swanni goes by the name of, ah

Verse I
Em Em Am G
A G B Em
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
Klim Brazey, brain dead like Zim Babies.
I’mma m-80, you little like dat kim lay-dee
I’m buzzin, dirty dozen, naughty rotten rhymer
‘cursin’ at you payers first than cross-streamin’ fuckin’ slimer.

I’m whacker than the mutherfucker I bit this style from
We ain’t gon’ sell a copy until we press an album.
Admit it.  fuck it, while we’re comin’ out in the open.
Trippy trashin’, cracked, smackin’ coke, and smokin’ dope then.

Em Em Am G
A G B Em
my name is LAW I’m a workaholic
I have every disease and I know exactly because I called it
But I’ll hide your wallet, ‘cuz I’m coming up quick to strip yo cash.
Snuck into your fuckin concert just to get stoned and whip your ass

Kitch, I’m cummin’ out flingin’ so brash it’ll make her thighs grin
you got ripped the fuck off like workers for Tyson
the proof is in the puddin,’ just asci pron holdin’
All slit’cho poke-mirth-ah grin foldin’

CHORUS I
Em G Am G
A G B Em

1-2-3, 4-5-6
So when you see me on your block with two flocks screaming fuck the world like tupac
I just don’t give a fuck
lickin’ that slit while grindin’ back, dirty, stacked and smellin’ yo joys that I’m a fact
I just don’t give a fuck

So put my eyes back on your rack, go run and tell your friends my dick is whack
I just don’t get a fuck
But see me on the street and duck, ‘cuz you gonn’ get stuck, stoned, and snuck.
‘cuz I just don’t get a fuck

Verse II
Em Em Am G
A G B Em

1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
I’m nicer than he, but on a search ta crush chocolate milkbones.
I’m over last week, I felt vanilla ice like “fo shizzle, holmes”
I’m ill enough to just straight up diss you for right reasons
I’m old and that’s no reason when it’s tweety blow freeze’ling

Flavor of grow season’ing, that was the sneak preview
I’ll dis your senator and still won’t lift da greek melieu.
you’ll bake your freak, leaves too, grill some grower’s crystals
It’s a lyrical dance-fight, gentle stems, hold your pistols

Butter fawns, like voltron and bash you with my shoulder missiles
Grim Bladey.  tm was the old initials (bye bye)
Full torsion, sportin’, cavortin’, abort spin
Pathological truther, nukin’ shit into proportion

The looniest, zaniest, spontaneous, sporadic,
Compulsive thinker, compulsive stinker, addict
Half animal, half man,
Dumpin your dead body inside of a fuckin’ trash can
with more holes than an afghan.

CHORUS II
Em G Am G
A G B Em

1-2-3, 4-5-6
So when you see me on your block with two flocks screaming fuck the world like tupac
I just don’t give a fuck
lickin’ that slit while grindin’ back, dirty, stacked and smellin’ yo joys that I’m a fact
I just don’t give a fuck

So put my eyes back on your rack, go run and tell your friends my dick is whack
I just don’t get a fuck
But see me on the street and duck, ‘cuz you gonn’ get stuck, stole, and snuffed.
‘cuz I just don’t get a fuck

Verse III
1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4
Somebody let me out this shimmer-green.
I’m a caged flea, minh!
On stage screamin’ like grays against the machine
Ain’t convinced I’m a fiend? Coochin’ up while this record is spinnin’
Clinically brain dead, I don’t need a second opinion.

Fuck droppin’ a jewel, I’m flippin’ a flaky treasure
I’ll bite your motherfuckin’ Carlyle, just to stake and pressure
I can’t take no effort, I’m sick of glitches
Sick of stupid bosses quittin’ while I’m plottin’ fishes

For school I paid way too much, too busy thinkin’ a good mush!
Doin’ too much crush got my face tusked like brain gush
Then I went to Crim steamed, that’s when my face flayed
Went to gym with bad grades, paced the women’s thin team

Sew take me for a joke the gross comedian
Too many mental problems got me spittin’ truth and wantin’ plebes again.
I’m dismantling all the curbs, plantin’ on the median
Finally made it home, but I ain’t foe the speech to get in

CHORUS III
Em G Am G
A G B Em

1-2-3, 4-5-6
So when you beat me with your stock or two glocks screaming fuck the world spike flu crock
I just don’t give a fuck
lickin’ that crip with a bloody back, flirty, flakked and fellin’ yo toys without no slack
I just don’t give a fuck

Em G Am G
A G B Em
So put my steak back in your trap, then run and tell your friends that dick is whack
I just won’t get a fuck
But see me on the street and duck, ‘cuz you gonn’ get stuck, boned, and fucked.
but I just don’t get a fuck.

Shit.  fuck everybody.  Outsiders.
Fuck the entire world.

</song>

no team, no crue, never haddit never will.

Finished typing up the lyrics @ 8:12 pm.
That, is a lot of words.
I typed them all.  Looped in sound forge. Highlight a segment and hit Q.

It’s funny.  This is how I’ve always learned lyrics.  In speech class, I always got the comment “well prepared” when I wrote that shit in study hall right before class.  Real. Time. Vicious-city. Vish-hossity? Vish-aw-sit-y. lol.

Was this ‘dre?  Ill fuckin’ beats.

It’s really too bad I hate the sound of my own voiceI wonder […] whether any of you will ever hear this.

there.  go record it, or use my shit at wiz-dum.  if you make any money, give me half. deal?

whatever.  go away.
t

p.s. i bite so much, i don’t even “consciously” know i’m doing it.  so disney.

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~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2010-10-13 (Wednesday).

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