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    Masters Of Illusion / Lyrics

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    "Scared Straight" Lyrics

    Masters Of Illusion

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    "When three guys, will slide into your cell
    Wrap your ass up in that blanket
    They gon' kick your ass over the side of that bed
    and do bodily harm to your asshole, by stickin a dick in it"

    [Motion Man]
    They looks at my styles, like a crackhead does upon a rock
    and pipe to get hype, I got 'em dirty fiendin for me
    Losin pounds for my sounds, that knows and tilts consumes the liquor
    'til the 40 gets killed, I bite that apple lick my lips like LL
    Doin it well, shock the world, charm your momma
    Verbalizin your girl, don't fuck with sorcerers with lyric bombs
    You know we got spells, abra-abra-abracadabra
    Grabba, this rapper can abra-abra-cadaver another rapper
    Change yo' range yo
    I drop my styles offer than an obtuse angle, I'm threatening
    Miraculous things be happening, every time I spit
    the verbal through speakers
    I'm on the court while you sorry niggaz sit in the bleachers
    Cheerleaders, fear leaders, sissy niggaz with skirts
    I'm catchin waves like white dude surfers with tans
    My King Kong style, climbin buildings, holdin yo' bitch
    I'm dichotomy to everybody, I'm fuckin melodic
    Niggaz comin out with drama, lookin mad histrionic
    I bounce uniquely, get up on this land, destroy you like water
    Yo mother nature that's my hoe and I been pimpin her bro
    My conversation's built like Spider-Man, it's neighborhood friendly
    but expands like Apocalypse for niggaz that's envy
    I back yo' team up ten yards cause yo' partner was holdin
    I sacked your quarterback with fifty sacks, this money I'm foldin
    He just an inmate with a cock up in you, {?} my style

    [Chorus: repeat scratches 4X]
    "Dead as a mouse"
    "Your butt's in jail", "so why you pushin it"
    "In the house of pain"

    [Kool Keith]
    You got to handle it Bill, yeah, yo check the reason
    I hear you scream loud, your cell door's full of semen
    Prisoners catch you, posin hard like a statue
    Too many men in your crew, but not there wit'chu
    You Coppertone, put your wig on, you start to moan
    Walkin your hallway, your panties shine, in the doorway
    Cell block, you stop, inmates, you on they jock
    Seein protection, big men hit your midsection
    You gettin bumrushed, by TV's with a yeast infection
    You on call, for a warden standin by the kitchen
    You snitched my man, here's a tape, take a listen
    You on security watch, walkin by the door
    I explore more, raw to the deepest core
    Yeah, have you on 4's

    "You are his kid, you gotta clean this cell
    You gotta wash his drawers and socks
    And he want to fuck you in your ass, you'll let him
    And if he want to sell you to another prisoner, he'll do that too"

    This song was submitted on October 4th, 2013 and last modified on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © The Bicycle Music Company.
    Written by Keith Thornton, Kurt Matlin, Paul Laster.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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