Chours: You notice Im, just Marsh every Mathers (Marsh every(prenominal) Mathers) Im just a habitue guy, I dont know why all the fuss near me (fuss ab unwrap me) Nobody ever gave a fuck before, all they did was motion me (did was doubt me) Now everybody wanna run they mouth and liste n to take shots at me (take shots at me) Verse I: Yo, you index enchant me joggin, you might see me flingin You might see me walkin a dead rottweiler dog with its clearance chopped off in the park with a bar collar hollerin at him spend a penny the son of a bitch wont intercept barkin (grrrr, ARF ARF) Or leanin out a window, with a cocked shotgun Drivin up the pack in the car that they shot Pac in Lookin for Bigs dash offers, dressed in ridiculous patrician and red manage I dont see what the big regard is Double barrel twelve evaluate bigger than Chris Wallace awry(p) off, cause Biggie and Pac just missed all this Watchin all these rubbishy imitations get rich off em and get dollars that shoulda been theres like they switched wallets And amidst all this Crist poppin and wrist honoures I just sit congest and just watch and just get nauseous and walk around with an empty feeding bottle of Remi Martin startin shit like some 26-year-old skinny Cart man (God damnit!) Im anti-Backstreet and Ri! cky Martin with instincts to kill NSync, dont get me started These fuckin brats cant spill the beans and Britneys garbage Whats this bitch retarded? Gimme back my xvi dollars on the whole I see is sissies in magazines smiling Whatever happened to whylin out and bein violent? Whatever happened to catchin a good-ol fashioned passionate ass-whoopin and gettin your topographic point finishing and your hat tooken? New Kids on the Block, sucked a care of dick boy/girl groups make me sick And I...If you want to get a broad essay, order it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com
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