Bad Habits

[Psychiatrist]

All right people, we're going to talk about bad habits

I used to have a bad habit

When I had a yeast infection where I scratched it continually

First person I want to talk about their bad habits

Is you Headlock, what have you got to say?

[Verse 1: Headlock]

A lot of people are like "Headlock's got issues"

Fuck that - I got a subscription and a full box of tissues

I'm not a character, I play one in my imagination

And before shaking my hand you might consider vaccination

Yeah I'm that dude that's in elevators arguing with himself

Because I don't have time to talk to anyone else

Any chick that sits down next to me when I'm drinkin' at bars

I cough in her face and tell her I think I have SARS

Bi-polar, eye disorder, talk so (shut up)

Talk words without incident sincere

But that comes and goes, sort of like me

I don't love these hoes so I jerk off then I leave

You don't know bad habits till you've lived like me

Walk a mile in my shoes, they suck and I want your Nikes

I guess the worst thing I do when I'm guesting on tracks

I scream "Headlock" through a cut and make the rest of it whack

[Psychiatrist]

All right, I'm going to get myself a cut

Mr Suttersutter!

[Verse 2: Trials]

It's the Aussie sex symbol, you better ask your mother

I'm like hip hop's version of that dude Dieter Brummer

I've got a slut habit, girls call me vain

'Cause my brain's a one-track mind made up of my face

There's no complaints, ladies know that I'm good

And women faint when they check the size of the manhood

Like "What a man, what a man, what a man

What a mighty good man! Say it again now"

My sex style is tight like Liv Tyler

Quite the pimp kind of guy to kiss like a

Exact replica of Gene Simmons

These teach the women cop the breaststroke like I was swimming

I sorta lie like the chicks that I say that I lay

On their backs on a day to day base

But honestly, I couldn't set a pulse on fire

So signing off, Mr Trials: compulsive liar

[Psychiatrist]

Don't be so hard on yourself, you're a strapping young liar

Pressure, what do you got to say?

[Verse 3: Pressure]

I get so drunk I fall flat, landing hard on my chin

Crack a retarded grin, my eyes get this glazed look, I'm far from a king

To attain drunk, my thoughts are a fumble

I try to talk but I mumble, try and walk but I stumble

And when my mind gets as dirty as a pint of Coopers

I delve down for a few rounds of pocket snooker

I like hogging loogers, picking plaque from my teeth

Scratching my arse, farting, and long walks on the beach

So how about it girls? I'm an eligible bachelor

Some guys will buy you flowers, I'ma get drunk and rap for you

Then stagger to the closest quarter, open my drawers

Then spew before you claim he was a closed talker

See I got habits as bad like faggots that drag

Make your stomach churn like retards having a shag

Man, my rapping is sad (no doubt!) and when I was at your house

I picked my nose and wiped it under your couch

[Psychiatrist]

I hope that wasn't my couch

It was made by Pakistani Seventh-day Adventists!

[Verse 4: Sesta]

I wish it was a bad habit, it's an epidemic

I'm leggin' it from paramedics when given the sedative

You see I wish I could settle it but my best bet to get it

Severed from my neck then I would get respected

But then I guess I'll just

Take a breather and beat up the weak and feeble for evil

Believin' they could defeat me

I'd only take 'em on if they were smaller, with my mates and his [?]

So I don't take drugs, I just use them as my excuse

To act the way that I do so disregard what I say to you

My mind's fucked up, corrupted

My shirt's tucked only when my gut's sucked in, it must be

The gluttony from Monday to Sunday

I wanna go out like Pun so catch me at the buffet

You see these hairy palms? They don't mean no harm

I mean I need a companion 'cause I'm sick of my left arm

[Psychiatrist:]

Sesta if you're hungry I'll have Marco prepare you a trifle

[Verse 5: Suffa]

Uh, only smoke a pack on a good night

On a bad night I smoke two packs like Suge Knight

Then when Saturday comes

It feels like a chimney shat on my lungs

Fuck your patches and gums

They call me Goldfinger, you should see

I got the illest hands from puffing on the 12 milligrams

Goldfinger, I swear, man

It looks like I've been stirring a curry with my bare hands

And my breath gets funky, I know hun

But if you don't like kissing a smoker, then just blow one

I smoke to the butt, I choke till it's done

Like dope smoker's toke it right down to their thumb

And if I could quit, shit, I could save the dollars

To get my lungs flushed by a Mexican doctor

(Achh he no speak English!) and he's completely incompetent

And doing a procedure that's banned on six continents

Bring out your dumb

[Psychiatrist]

Bring out your dumb!? I'll bring out a can of whoop-ass on you

You shouldn't put people down

Anyways, it's been a really good session everyone

You're very clever people

Hopefully now you've got that out of your system

You can address your problems

[Turntablism: DJ Reflux]

"Doing your crib" "Break a sample like-like a bad habit"

"Bad-bad-bad habit"

"Bad-bad-bad-bad-bad-bad habit"

"B-bad habit"