Guck

(Clonic convulsions and groaning) (He yells aloud) (Convulses arms and legs) (Grimaces, bites his tongue) (Gives the impression of someone who is completely out of his mind) Put a fucking hole in the ground Ay Dig it up, dig it up, dig it up Put 'em all six feet down Ay Dig it up, dig it up, dig it up Dig 'em deep so they don't make a sound I go dumb, I get guck I don't even give a fuck I come up Piss on your bitch Suck a toe, then we switch I'm so numb I don't cum I don't give a single fuck When I spit, I make it stick When I'm coming up, you better have my money quick Dig 'em deep so they do not make a sound Looking in the window I've been watching you sleep (woop woop) Gonna wreck to your death Blood stain don't come off of me (Better not make a peep) I've been walking to you acting like you're pleasant Hold up 11, never got a wrecking Everyone hold up a second I know your disease and you gotta confess it, oh You never know Motherfucker thought he could run up and try to blow Cold day, cold play So I made that red snow Chopped up his body to go Now you know my flow so sick like Make-A-Wish kids I'm on that drip (brrr) Never tell what I'm gonna do YP Flesh and the mob and we're coming through Ay Dig it up, dig it up, dig it up Put 'em all six feet down Ay Dig it up, dig it up, dig it up Dig 'em deep so they don't make a sound I go dumb, I get guck I don't even give a fuck I come up Piss on your bitch Suck a toe, then we switch I'm so numb I don't cum I don't give a single fuck When I spit, I make it stick When I'm coming up, you better have my money quick Whether or not you believe it Looking at one of humanity's greatest achievements Music genius in my genus Pity the fool that cannot fucking see this Iced like T Hot like skeet I'm a lyrical catastrophe My mastery Will have you plastered across the back of a backboard and put you in a cast for free I'm on that fuck society Split the game -type shit Displays I pitch rock lane -type switch You chasin' that lame-type bitch I'm on that fuck society Split the game -type shit (Displays I pitch rock lane -type switch) Wait, would everyone hold up a second I know your disease and you gotta confess it (You chasin' that lame-type bitch) Bow! Ay Dig it up, dig it up, dig it up (Gives the impression of someone who is completely out of his mind) Ay Dig it up, dig it up, dig it up (Gives the impression of someone who is completely out of his mind) Ay Dig it up, dig it up, dig it up