Hand me an eighth, beam me up and land me in space
I'mma' sit on top of the world and spit on Brandy and Ma$e
I'm more than ill
Scarier than a white person trapped in a room with Lauryn Hill
Human horror film
But with a lot funnier plot, and people that feel me
Cause I'mma' still be the Madd Rapper
Whether I got money or not
As long as I'm on pills, and I got plenty of pot
I'll be in a canoe paddlin', makin' fun of your yacht
But I would like an award
For the best rapper to get one mic in The Source
And a wardrobe I can afford
Otherwise I might just end up back striking at Ford
And you wonder what the hell I need more Vicodin for?
Everybody's pissin' me off; even the No Limit Tank
Looks like a middle finger sideways flippin' me off
No wonder I'm a great danger to my health
Why else would I kill you then jump in a grave and bury myself?
