Insane-Iffy by E.B. Lyrics
[Verse 1]
I'm just a loser with nothing to lose except for cruisers
Scapegoat, take note of the quote by Bundy
The thrill of stealing hoes, making holes
Bigger than aborted dreams of starving bluegum scum
Oh wait, that's me, I shouldn't be talkin but oh well
Mr. Black Token kid he is, leave him out
Slut whore, you dirty dollars, trying do me like that
I'd pop you in the mouth, but Weinstein did it for me, heh
Same routine, same rigor
Dump the broad, chop her up like sinewaves through your ear lobes, feel those
Her body warm but sock is cold, oh no
A chocolate bar in vanilla milkshake
Take a quick dip in lake, please don't resurface babe
This ain't Analog, It's City of God
Odds are a few sawnoff firearms, snow falling, crows mauling
And a few alluded 'lusions for lewd, brewed, sticky sticks of rapper excrement
It's evident I'm negligent, left a boney body filled with boyish boners
Loner joker jowl smacked foul with a crack pow
Back now, you should check your stacks now
And your ho now, bloodhound on the pound with Chris Brown
Found a gooey chewy musty crusty piece of brain in trashcan
Deadpan, I wish I was, but trashcan is what I is
(Nigga, nobody cares)
Uh, see the clan needs bars, not heart of a broken token from Chuck E Cheese's
Oh Jesus, I lack reason and logic
Pro, I am not, I have foes that are hot headed
Sesh session with a sexed Pixie
Asking, "Where is my mind at?"
Find it in a boxed container with all the white supplements, not Vitamins, but gurgling, and burdening
The hurt in me, stocking class act hoes
The prance though, out the window
For show, for show, I'm slower than Rush Hour 4
[Verse 2: Papi Panda]
I'm the baddest
Pussy niggas stick to class act shit
Ya class act money got you askin'
Where the grass is
"My glasses, my glasses, I can't find my glasses"
Well that's because I took em
Them I came into the back end
Back on ya old jokes, back on ya old shit
Trix are for kids, you a fuck ass rabbit
Grabbin' some tees from my store of department
Depart with the shit
Teen Titans stay robbin'
I stick to clobberin' niggas that always botherin'
Bothersome lil niggas that bothered until I caught 'em
Like daddy, I'm never calling
These niggas that stick to stalking
And listening to my shit
I'm the shit, getting heads to bobbin'
On me
That's what my psyche said
Then I lost my head, and now my motherfucking psyche's dead
Stay awake, you fall asleep
And I rip out your fucking neck
Sheets is red
You bleed to death
And then proceed to die in bed
[Verse 3: EB]
I don't even have a bed, a dead hooker mattress, actress passes through a spacy mood of action
The fastest spastic with a phone like that was classic
Was stabbed with a plastic syringe
Now he's in a classless casket
[Hook: Papi Panda] (x2)
Close your eyes
What do you see
Got a grip, then lost it
Lost it (insane)
[Verse 5: EB]
I made this track for attention
Not for tension or question
But no ascension or mention
Just aggressive confession
By a boy and his session
With reflection that's gentian
Root flag in the ground, bitter lips, Snow White
Three bright bullets saved up
It's only me, myself and I
I spy sky in dark dye
Play some games with arc die
But I chose the wrong card, now it's all hard
Imma Tyler Durden this because I got nothing else to say
I'm just a loser with nothing to lose except for cruisers
Scapegoat, take note of the quote by Bundy
The thrill of stealing hoes, making holes
Bigger than aborted dreams of starving bluegum scum
Oh wait, that's me, I shouldn't be talkin but oh well
Mr. Black Token kid he is, leave him out
Slut whore, you dirty dollars, trying do me like that
I'd pop you in the mouth, but Weinstein did it for me, heh
Same routine, same rigor
Dump the broad, chop her up like sinewaves through your ear lobes, feel those
Her body warm but sock is cold, oh no
A chocolate bar in vanilla milkshake
Take a quick dip in lake, please don't resurface babe
This ain't Analog, It's City of God
Odds are a few sawnoff firearms, snow falling, crows mauling
And a few alluded 'lusions for lewd, brewed, sticky sticks of rapper excrement
It's evident I'm negligent, left a boney body filled with boyish boners
Loner joker jowl smacked foul with a crack pow
Back now, you should check your stacks now
And your ho now, bloodhound on the pound with Chris Brown
Found a gooey chewy musty crusty piece of brain in trashcan
Deadpan, I wish I was, but trashcan is what I is
(Nigga, nobody cares)
Uh, see the clan needs bars, not heart of a broken token from Chuck E Cheese's
Oh Jesus, I lack reason and logic
Pro, I am not, I have foes that are hot headed
Sesh session with a sexed Pixie
Asking, "Where is my mind at?"
Find it in a boxed container with all the white supplements, not Vitamins, but gurgling, and burdening
The hurt in me, stocking class act hoes
The prance though, out the window
For show, for show, I'm slower than Rush Hour 4
[Verse 2: Papi Panda]
I'm the baddest
Pussy niggas stick to class act shit
Ya class act money got you askin'
Where the grass is
"My glasses, my glasses, I can't find my glasses"
Well that's because I took em
Them I came into the back end
Back on ya old jokes, back on ya old shit
Trix are for kids, you a fuck ass rabbit
Grabbin' some tees from my store of department
Depart with the shit
Teen Titans stay robbin'
I stick to clobberin' niggas that always botherin'
Bothersome lil niggas that bothered until I caught 'em
Like daddy, I'm never calling
These niggas that stick to stalking
And listening to my shit
I'm the shit, getting heads to bobbin'
On me
That's what my psyche said
Then I lost my head, and now my motherfucking psyche's dead
Stay awake, you fall asleep
And I rip out your fucking neck
Sheets is red
You bleed to death
And then proceed to die in bed
[Verse 3: EB]
I don't even have a bed, a dead hooker mattress, actress passes through a spacy mood of action
The fastest spastic with a phone like that was classic
Was stabbed with a plastic syringe
Now he's in a classless casket
[Hook: Papi Panda] (x2)
Close your eyes
What do you see
Got a grip, then lost it
Lost it (insane)
[Verse 5: EB]
I made this track for attention
Not for tension or question
But no ascension or mention
Just aggressive confession
By a boy and his session
With reflection that's gentian
Root flag in the ground, bitter lips, Snow White
Three bright bullets saved up
It's only me, myself and I
I spy sky in dark dye
Play some games with arc die
But I chose the wrong card, now it's all hard
Imma Tyler Durden this because I got nothing else to say