c*cksucka lyrics

[J-Zone]
Get those ballls, out of yer jawwws
{"c*cksucker!"}
Yo

I'd like to take this time to thank y'all for that J-Zone hatred
All that critical acclaim sh*t, I ain't think that I could make it
Critics, and hip-hop purists give me crap
They want "Bottle of Whup Ass" I gave 'em Boss Hog rap
Fickle fans I can't funk with y'all
Rather have your lil' sister play a flute solo on my balls!
And they say life's a b*tch, that never takes her clothes off
So I'm quick to feed her a di*kwich and a side order of coleslaw

[Celph Titled]
You know I'm laughin when I hear Celph Titled can't rap for nothin
And you right cause if I'm spittin it's at least 3500
And that's, per bar, by far as real as it gets
So spread rumors, talk sh*t, see the limp I walk with b*tch?
They got a problem when I spit usin these raw words
But I'm a Hog 'til I die, out my mind, I'm absurd
I prefer you come see me you got a problem with it
c*cksucker I'm a Glock buster with clips for the critics, sheeeit

{"Watch it c*cksucker!"}