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Boom!

"Detroit listeners out there, you better be sure to stop by the

Galaxy club where there's a freestyle superfly fresh contest going

On tonight. if you got the skills you better get your hiphop ass

On down here, cause we got dj clueless on the wheels of steel"

(The fuck, fucks, trying to freestyle, oh, I'll be down there.

Yeah, I got something for all these muthafuckas down there. yeah.)

[Esham]

Mortification is my next demonstration

I'd ask you for a light pumping gas at the station

Here's my situation: I hate many people

So I hear no evil say no evil just like kanieval

Leave you headless, bloody mess

Like you was ridin a ducati

Ladey dahdey

Broke every bone in your body, I'm not sorry

I'll probably murder you, voices tellin me do what he say

"kill the dj! fuck what he play! mayday mayday!"

Boom boom, blood's all over the room

I fucked your bitch like a witch with the broom

Dooms-day, murderers say,

"all why'all must pay when the buck shots spray!"

Who wants to challenge me?

Grab the mic and bust your rap

But then I'm a just go grab my strap and just commence to bustin caps

Leaving bodies piled up in freestyle clubs. fuck!

You better make room! boom like what!

[Chorus]

What? why'all make room when we show up boom boom boom

What what? why'all make room when we show up boom boom boom

Killers run up in this bitch, start bustin off shots

Hitting mirror balls, lazer lights, and people on the top

I'm lookin for the dj 'cause he don't see it my way

I'm 'bout to blow him out his headphones and spin some abk

I'm like a molitove cocktail breaking on your wall

I'm setting shit off, I'll blow your lid off, your body fall

You don't need aluminol, I'm leavin blood everywhere

And I'm aiming for the head and hair of everybody there

I'm like a grasshopper quick to jump, I'm spreading my wings

You say the wicked shit'll die, I say you faggots seeing things

And all you bitches know: I'm gangsta. don't ask me to dance

I might straight panic, pull the gat, and blow your pussy out your pants

It's the wicked shit. it's e and j. it's hotter than hell

And every devil's night, we hunt them down and slaughter d12

I take the moose gun and shot your butt and blow it out your back

Turn and face the camera, "where your hatches at?"

Throw em up why'all

[Chorus]

Make room

Guess who coming in?

Grab my gun again

They told me he was one of them

So I done him in

A killer's on the hunt again

Smoke my blunt again

Fatality finished him, I won again

Repentance, my vengeance, so I'm not sentenced a hundred years

It's burning my ears, and blood is mixed with my tears, fears

My styles gets rid of this, drive-by's and wheelchairs

All you see is smoke in the air cause we don't care.

[Chorus]

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written by PUWAL, MICHAEL / SMITH, ESHAM

Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., CHRYSALIS MUSIC GROUP, BUG MUSIC

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