Tom Thum Songtext / Lyric

I got a big head and a fat ego

I got the starving and hungry poverty superiority flow

My pistol is old school class, I'm peeling your ass fast

Yo, I'm uncontrollably gifted, I totally ripped it

I'm vocally vicious

Naming the best ever, I'm supposed to be listed

Even if I'm emotionally and overly twisted and socially timid

And every chick had left with a broken ovary when I hit it

The fans follow me like disciples, I'm Charlton Heston

Not the Moses version, I'm the gun toting version with the rifles

Don't let them crabs gash you

When I'm jacking a rapper and ripping the jacket

And patching your ass and using a machete to smash you

I'll rob anyone, anywhere, under the jacket, get the flame up

Pull the gun out at your wedding while your grandma do the macarana

All these feminine rappers wanna see me dead and buried

Too many rappers is drag-queened out; Tyler Perry

Sick of the similar imitating

I did it already to pitifully paint 'em

The bigger the better, debate 'em

You biting what I'm spitting, you already verbatim

I don't need to breathe when I rap, I got gills, fuck lungs

I'm like a superhero out of the toilet of the slums

Come on



Every verse like a firearm

Blasting ya

I'm the greatest!

You ain't shit

Compared to me.



Shacking up for the night at the crib with a B-movie actress

Shocking next to the bed and the wad of cash under the mattress

As a kid I wasn't into theatrics

After school my daddy used to teach me combative Green Beret tactics

My flow natural, you artificial, beefed up Barry Bonds at BALCO

Dope or dog food? I spit heroin, your rhymes are alpo

I ain't into the tight jeans

I'm into bar brawls, brass knuckles, and bloody fight scenes

The mainstream pussies ever give me props? No, nada

That's like the Fox News giving props to Obama

Wait, I teach the children and the world the word hate

I eat pussy 'til every dyke on the Earth turn straight

I'm disturbing with the grammar

I'm more disturbing than bombing the baptist church of Birmingham, Alabama

I've been repping

I'll put a hit on any paper that my pen blessing

I'm nice with the hands, each fist is a registered weapon

I'll leave you forever rested

I don't care if you're beefed up on steroids or what you bench pressing

I'm at the Best Western and tossing your girl salad with some French dressing

Hit you with a batter of hatchets in the back of a ratchet

My flow, ain't a rapper that match it

Too much lyricism too digest, I do it on purpose

Two of my bars is more lyrical than two of your verses

Come on



Every verse like a firearm

Blasting ya

I'm the greatest!

You ain't shit

Compared to me.



I tour the world

You're at home with your momma

I get ass

Every night you get no ass

Suck my balls, and choke on my dick you bitch

You ain't shit

Compared to me.