Paroles: Copywrite. The Jerk Vol. 0. Takin' Gwop.

[Intro:]
Haaa
{What do ya think I am some kind of Jerk or something? }
You alright? I'm good man, shut the fuck up
Shout out D.R. Period, man
My bad I took so long with the beat man
I know you gotta make your gwop, sold it and shit, you know
I ain't trippin man, I'll be back, get some more from ya
I've had this motherfucker two years
It's all good man, shit happens, I'mma still rip it though
O Dot, shout out to Hip Hop Game

[Verse 1:]
When the fire spits it'll fry your entire wig and expire clicks
I'm trying to dip and grind, hit those notes that Mariah hits
I, kick my crying bitch out naked in a vacant lot
While taking off a cross that I sold her and told her - shake it off
I'm past bent on Fabson Dice and Smirnoff
Bout to call this ho, smash and slice my ear off
They biting in a mic fight like a Tyson square off
Poltergeist, who hear songs when the lights appear off
I, sleep, eat, think, shit and speak ink
Fuck what ya'll each think, raw to the core like the meat's pink
And hard as a floor on the precinct while ya teen thinks
That you're a chain letter for 7 days, the weak link
Fuck a bottle of Mo', gimme alotta the dro
Bout twelve cheap drinks and model that hoes whose feet stink
Pete'll have ya bitch in the kitchen sniffing, baring it all
Only wearing a bra, condition in the hair on my balls
Not embarrassed at all, nah, just used to horse shit
And I'm pore white trash like a used Biore strip
So I be on some bougie corn shit
I take her to the movies, but it's usually porn flicks
Too Cop, so many tracks you won't believe when I'm dead
So many tracks you think I had a fucking weave in my head
An expert plotting to network my next work
Until my face is all up in the hood - like an LRG sweatshirt
Dead serious, got every set fearing us
Even the best lyricists are scared to guest appear with us
Scar you bitches and give you a barber finish
In a Sharper Image in that store with all the chairs that give massages in it
I got to kill him, if you balling drop a billion
I'mma take ya gwop who's not a feeling?
I'm in the all white Bronco with a cup of vodka and OJ chilly
Multi-spilt Philly, so high I feel guilty
Oh my, no lie, I appear near to the stars
I'm Tom Arnold, I owe my whole career to the Barrs
You ain't as, nearly as raw, bet I'm popping seven oxycotin
Sweating bullets so big that they could be shot in weapons
Three bitches ran past the door
After they made me stretch like Reid Richards
I skeet bitches, now that's what I call a Fantastic 4
Now leave bitches, and that's for sure
See that thing where the key twitches? That's the door
I got raps galore, shit I ain't even spat before
Just stumbled across it wondering what the fuck that was for
I got a screw loose, to the Phillips to the latch of ya casket door
To ensure I'mma bury the bastard poor
We shot a movie of her sucking on my dick
Show you the gag reel and I don't mean she's fucking up the script
I'm something like a pimp, dumping something like a clip
At the motherfucker I heard busting something that I spit
What? Heh, dogg should I punish him or quit?
(Make it quick, let's get the fuck up out this bitch)
Aight...

[Verse 2:]
The mixtape in my whip loud enough to shake
Still dosed off, then awoke swerving crazy
Luckily gun sound effects were loud as heck to wake me
Buckle ya child up for safety, I don't want your baby
To smash the dashboard when I pile up ya Mercedes
Miles per hour, eighty, I'm lazy, I ride
Blazing an eigth of my great grandpa's haze for his eyes
Rented X5, my ex in it, her mind got sex in it
Belly got X in it like Hype directed it
So you know what came next and shit (What?) me
This chick ain't came yet like how Jews see Jesus
Nobody sees us, don't believe us, it's nothing repping
God blessed me, it's like He think I sneezed up in heaven
I need what you're getting so I'm treed up spitting
Dissing C-Dub please chump, I feed from your shitting
You're so desperate for the wealth and the love
You'd fill yaself full of slugs and kill yaself for the buzz
O Diesel, C.O's lethal, it's no people as evil
The flow equal, as O and P do, cept Hov, Sigel, Eminem in his prime
If you feminine in ya lines write Lil Kim and them's rhymes
I've been in town with the pens or to begin in a Genesis
Wasn't a sentence I'd finish when God was practicing penmenship
I ain't acting, I pen a script, I'm narrating now
I'll make you go from wearing a crown to "where are they now? "

[Outro:]
O motherfucking Dot!
614!
{What do you think I am, some kind of jerk or something? }
You motherfucking, what the fuck?
You know what, no wonder you fucking dropped out
You god damn moron, you'r a fucking hunk of shit
I hate you, you're a big nosed bitch
Ay, tell em Wayto called
Wayto who?
Way to suck my diiiickkkkk
Yo man, I'mma get outta here