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Mouthing Off (Feat 4-ize)

Yeah, hah,

When it all come down to it we ain't have shit!

(Woo! Use your mouth, haha)

Ludacris, 4-Ize, it's like thisI make niggaz eat dirt and fart dust

Then give you a eighty dollar gift certificate to Pussies 'R Us

I eat the whole pie, and leave nothing but the crust

So you can feel what it's like, with instinct but no guts

A sac wit no nuts or a mack wit no sluts

Give me a full-body massage, I still can't be touched

They call me Seymour Butts, cause I get mo' ass than most

They say I'm next and got that butter love, and get too close

Follow the leader cause I'm meaner than medulla oblongota

My Tribe's on more Quests than Midnight Marauders

It's all pina coladas, no cops and robbers

Taking trips back and forth from here to the Bahamas

I hump more than llamas, get rolled more than tires

If you say I'm not nice, then you'se a motherfucking liar

Entitled to your Opini-ons, into the next millennium

So many Major Coins that I thought I had a million4-Ize, 4-Ize whatcha? 4-IzeYo, I am going to blow up the Earth

With my "pew-36 explosive space modulator"

Buddha be praised, you meditator

Drop squad interrogator, 85 percent regulator

The Educator and the Almighty Creator, dedicator

The separator of fiction, I spark friction

Smoking "Hay" without the Crucial Confliction

4-Ize prescription; microphone, Jackie Stallone

Psychic prediction, Egyptian description

Of my psychical, my flesh is weak and it's pitiful

Spiritual is hooked up to the invisible

Umbilical cord of my Lord, Kumbiya Devine Kah

Remove paper of tar from every cigar

I slap authority like Gabor, Zsa Zsa

Half Allah, Half Anti Christ Superstar

Rocking the microphone with a hand like Dr. Claw

While I'm hitting trees, harder than Sonny Bono

Double Dragon, mixed up with an Abobo

I kill villains in slow-mo for talking crazy in my Dojo

Got nothing to lose, like I'm a boxcar hobo

When I get Ludacris with bridges on the promo

Niggas wanna clown, I'm Homey and Bozo

Cause in the grand prize game my life calling like Jo-Jo

The name sticks like Toto

I keep it realer than alien autopsy photo

You similar to a Spice Girl going solo

You lost like BEBE, or a dog named Toto

My statue of liberty is Rebecca Lobo

We Cop Robo, virgo

Bust ass like a motherfucking homo, como estas?

Tony Del Negro

Built to destroy these kid's blocks of Legos

Lego my Eggo cause I say so

Hold the microphone, 4-Ize, I stay gifted

Manifested, elevated, I uplifted

The elevator, the escalator

"That's not a knife? That's a knife!"

Crocodile Dundee the Alligator Rustler

Cause I hustle ya, under the China

Big Trouble, little sewer but still I find ya

Cause I'm stinky

Manifest, throw you down the stairs like a slinky

Yo, my third eye is blinky

Songwriters

Bridges, Christopher Brian / Hayes, TonyPublished by

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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