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letra de for the herd - jak tripper

this is preposterous
i talk a lot of sh-t, i squat thrust a hippopotamus
stuffed in a plymouth, stacked on wiltshire monuments
stacked on all eight-hundred and eighty-seven easter island monoliths
misogynist, welcome to narcotics anonymous
honest, it’s been three years since i popped or sniffed
copped a binge, how am i not a stiff?
for the simple fact i should have od’d like bonham did
i felt the stage ? twice and i got a kid
i’m the result of a condom ripped
full moon facing like ? locked in a closet, p-ss
necrophiliac nympho, jerkin’ off in a graveyard to virgin suicides locked in cribs
all jokes aside, my c-ck is big, yeah, dude, hip-hop’s the sh-t
…not, i’m not positive, i rock a wig
in my house and walk around talking to inanimate objects
like it’s not you, it’s the chair i got a problem with
10x slacker, not a modern kid
and mostly every crew i work with i consider little punks
battle rap nerd, backpackin’ simpletons
drippin’ prep-b-scent pimple p-ss
i like t-ts so big they can wrap around my waist
so behind my back, the nipples touch, i’m sick of drugs
i bury you alive, wait ’til you die, then dig it up
and how about this; i rap cause it’s an outlet
if i don’t jump in the booth, i’ll end up sneaking in houses
knotted up white picket fence families with night gowns and blouses
found with ligature marks, gagged and molested on couches
and i like hippie chicks who think i’m a g*nius
black hair, skin fair like melanin depletion
and almost overdose like peaches
at my shows comatose doing freezes
rumors of me as sc-mbag, i’ll be it
if i c-m in your mouth, don’t try to speak, you can keep it
my s-xual obsessions almost f-cked up my program completion
i puked a lot and threw chairs in group during treatment
behold the fire spitter, i burn like a phoenix
and don’t front, my style is hot
i went from cocaine viles, rifles and cops
puffin’ white rhino in bongs
to psych board suicidal and watch
how you gonna survive when all your idols were shot?
we’ll be back in a tc within three weeks, like it or not
or layin’ inside of a box
i may smile but i won’t hold a bible, get signed or go pop
i make music for depressed kids, stuck in hole with no rope to climb to the top
just a rope to tie in a knot around their necks
signed “goodbye cruel world, leaving the flies to the cops”

- jak tripper

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