c*ckmeat Sandwich/p*ssin’ Between Train Cars lyrics

[Sample: **Harold and Kumar: Escape from Guantanamo Bay**]
(Guard 1) Ever hear of a…c*ckmeat sandwich?
(Harold) What’s a c*ckmeat sandwich?
(Guard 1) You’re about to find out

**Beat drops**

(Big Bob) You boys ready for your c*ckmeat sandwich?
(Harold) Uh…No
(Big Bob) Well you better get hungry real fast ‘cause I got a whole lot of sandwich waiting for you. Ain’t nothin’ gay about gettin’ your di*k sucked! You the ones that’s gay for suckin’ my di*k! In fact, in creeps me out just bein’ around you fags
Around you fags (repeated)

[Mr. Muthaf*ckin’ eXquire:]
Looks like you boys done f*cked up

[Part 1]
I’m ‘bout to make my ex sorry that she ever left me
Murder everything; she [edited]
Some vodka in her belly mixed with ice that’s from the deli
That’s my daily regiment, my tolerance is getting deadly
Eddie Hazel Smedly Smergenoff be bumpin’ out my Lexus LE
Makaveli mended me my mind so military
Ready for whatever evils that demons bringin’ at me
We be laughin’ at you n*ggas if you want it, come and get it (f*ck college!)
I ain’t scary actually its quite the contrary:
Very scary, never ever think that you get dare me
If your wifey says she met me, that means that she’s in my celly
And I took her to the deli, stuffed some c*ckmeat in her belly
I don’t rock with Pelle Pelle rather Dr. Romanelli
If you got no clue what that is than you’ve got some steps to catch me
Hipster Pac with odds against me, obviously I’m relentless
Common sense should tell you that
You ain’t equipped to come against us
[Hook 1]
I’m servin’ c*ckmeat sandwiches
If ain’t seen Harold and Kumar that means to SUCK MY di*k
And that’s some real disrespective sh*t
But whatever, as long as n*ggas know they can't f*ck WITH THIS
(Repeat)

[Bridge]
I’m the sh*t
(Repeated)
Oh my god!

**Beat changes**

You are now listening to
The sounds of Peel Off Entertainment
If your b*tch want to suck my di*k
I’m probably gonna let her
So you should just get used to tastin’ it
I’m just sayin’

[Part 2]
n*ggas stop me in the street like, “eX, I knew you from back in the day!”
I be like, “Good for you, my dude, now get the f*ck out my face”
Moet, Rozay metal thingy twister cork popper rock star e pill downer rama don-dana
Megatron Arm, 50 Shot Drum
Rum Pum Pum Pum
Dump leave chumps, slumped
In The Back of a Mazda - Miada
Swing the Katana like a Highlander
Rag top on a tan Phantom
A bad b*tch like the Phantasm
APC denim saggin’ off my ass
So hard I fall and hit will crack
A basket case in a deep-frier bubbling
Nut case in a b*tch face if she suck a di*k
Audi R8, chrome body like Collasus
Ain’t really got it but f*ck YOU, that line was sick!
Naughty home-girl told me I’m obnoxious
I forgot her name but f*ck YOU, you snobby b*tch!
They can't rattle me ‘cause n*ggas ain’t half of me
My life-story’s like a dystopian tragedy
My mentality is money-orientated
I’m destined to live this dream for those who said I wouldn’t make it
Its 2010 and ain’t nobody five-percent-ers
These little n*ggas is ignorant, preachin’ to get your head up
Pick up and hit up (again)
b*tch I’m from Brooklyn, p*ssin’ between cars on the C-train to Euclid
My stop is Utica, get off walk 3 blocks
Turn by the chicken spot and come and f*ck with the squad
Critical Plot, administered by the n*gga who
Critics consider the illest sh*t in the city now
b*tch lie me down, so hot I could drown
I got em right where I want em and the tables are turnin’
Tell me who’s laughing now?
Without a doubt I’ll pound on these clowns
They talk fowl about me, but when I’m around I never hear a sound
You know my style, coke mixed with Brugal
Two wack hoes from Elmont, I switch up f*ckin’ ‘em doggystyle
Throw in the towel, I got this for now
Probably forever ‘cause I’m only gettin’ better
Time to hand me my crown
f*ck ya’ll n*ggas
(Stay off his di*k)
[Part 3]
Chumps don’t think I can flow
So here we go, release a new track to show the wack
That I can throw styles back and forth, fast and slow
Mothaf*ckas actin’ like I never bust’ they ass befo’
Well now you know; shout out to my cousin Goldie Glo
‘Cause he kept them hoes but my n*gga, Vanessa, let her go
Mind on my money
Doin’ crimes we never really fail
I die for a dollar, imagine what I’ll do for millions
Shout out to my other cousin Reem
And his main man Lump in Scranton doin’ their thing
Shout outs to the haters who talked sh*t about me
Knowin’ damn well that they ain’t sh*t without me
Its like **Perfect Strangers** Balki
n*ggas sheep: bunch a weak n*ggas who follow n*ggas who weak

[Outro: Female Voice Speaking]
I need to find me a n*gga that know what to do with me. Know how to give it from the back, mmm, and bend me ova’, and then he gon’ spank that, yeaaa. I want me a hood n*gga. I want me a hood n*gga to do those crazy things to mee. Make me bust that nut, water pus*y. Yea. I like the big di*k…

Yo your sh*ts good
(eXquire) Oh thanks yo
Yea, I’m sayin’ its good though like…
(eXquire) Oh aight you wanna…
Yo you should rap on it too, maybe you get more confidence when you see that you can do something
(eXquire) Nah
I need some sort of payment… How are they gonna…
(eXquire) We gon’ have to record this…
You want me to… oh ok…
[Sounds of di*k sucking; eXquire moaning]