Blow Me

A bottle of jack's got my manager grinnin' Yeah that's me that keeps the turntables spinnin' I'm countin cards and I keep on winnin' I know God hates me 'cause I'm always sinnin' U don't know me blow me ho you wanna get hot You'll get your a*s blown out f**kin with the kid rock Eatin up ya s*ckers just the same way a beast could Tearin thru your town like muther f**kin clint eastwood 'cause I be fakin the rhymes that keep ya shakin' Makin a lotta money but don't let me be mistaken I never thought about climbin up the pop chart And I don't give a f**k u can't buy my tape in k-mart Give me a choice between soundin like an a*s wipe Or sittin in an alley smokin crack from a gla*s pipe I'd be as skinny as a junkie with the aids plague But still I'd look better than a puppet tryin to get paid Now check the rhyme as I climb and I co get rude And send ya runnin' playin' pus*y like shaggy and scoob 'cause I'm the wrong dude to f**k with my mouth is mental And I'm a tear shit up like they did in south central Son of a bitch I'm the son of a bitch Nobody ever loved u so you're the son of a d**k I'm a product of a young girl top in her cla*s You're a product of a hooker who was sellin that a*s And your styles in the past it's old and dusty So from now on I'm callin u m.c. crusty 'cause to face me u must be blitzed or blasted So now I'm gonna drop ya like a hit of acid And when I rip ya people they might stare 'cause I got more rhymes than donahue's got white hair An yo buck won't you please be a friend And tell your mom I wanna f**k and I'll pick her up at 10