Fuckdez.com by Dez & Nobs

[Dez]
I ain't impressed with your imaginary force field
You'll catch one in the chest like brother Justin in the coreville
You ain't really shit compared to other rappers I've seen
I be running shit like I be mixing drinks with Visine
Now my ears are ringing and I got a fucking migraine
And I know that someone somewhere out there saying my name
You better be damn fucking sure who's got your back cuz

Get off my jock Cousteau
Just because I'm talking shit it's not about you yo
What is about move slow and the consistency thickens
I still think sticking
Feathers up your ass does not make you a chicken
Or the snakes who are hissing
Who beg you to listen
To the vague euphemism in place of truth and wisdom
Hate you and dissin' you when you're not around
When you roll to the spot they make sure you got a pound

Yo Nobs, you think it could be something I wrote
I don't know I was going for the subtle approach like
So what's really good Dez

I don't know you tell me
Que bueno gringo
What up with this limp wrist pound though?
Come on man
What the fuck I thought we went over this
Is we chessboxing or what
Oh you know what
I'm done talking
This rap shit is over

[silense until 3:08]
It's Dezmatic
The one who puts the dents in your whoppers
Talking shit holdin' a couple empty bottles
Like I shot Cyrus
Got lungies like bronchitis
We got birds scrapping over us you cock fighters
We [?] two spawn cyphers like demon seedlings
And floss [?] sizes with the thongs from vaginas of diva's g strings
With the same powers Screech has
Don't sleep with your mouth open bitch you'll get tea bagged
I kick the game that makes the girlie pout
Like "Uh uh, you gotta purty mouth"
From her torso to her sore hole in the bottom of her tummy hole
[?] bitches never showing up for your show
[?] for no dough gas money or for promos
Just a couple little homos like Samwise and Frodo
About to get Jet Moto
From the nine do no quatro to the five uno to the oto
Oh yo

I'm the same rapper that your fans hate
You didn't get plugged by the man Snake
Get your brain lost in the purple [?]
[?] fucked up so you gonna hear my mellow murder mus
Really no one will pay attention to you
From the minds I [?]
Wanna get come get it better bring it
And Dezmatic will break you off like tinker toys
Like tinker toys
Like tinker toys
Better bring it boys
Better bring that noise
Better

[Eibol]
Straight from Sing Sing City
Where the witty cats bitty titty raps
And the bitties tap crews
Like 40 caps
Mother fuckers got flow
But no dough so mic check's a cash crop
We hit the hash crop
In the sand lot
I keep like the common play piano live
Until I disappear Phyllis Hyman did in 95'
To suicide
Other words till I kick the bucket kid
Dez, pass that vodka so this cock can take a couple swigs
Spit from a pager go off the top like a wicked wind
And better blend got your head spinnin' without the medicine
Heaven sent but not angelic
Set and primp but needs embellishment
On the irreverence on rap without intelligence
Freaky flow dynamic duo meet the status quo
Kids love us like Yu-Gi-Oh!
But still download the music though
Damn
But I guess that's how it's gotta be
But working 9 to 5 to support the Fingerprint family

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