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letra de coins remix - matt da mutt

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{verse 1: matt da mutt}
yea i’m feelin amplified, hey hermaphrodites

p-ss the mic, all you f-cking swag packin wack rappers
leave you plastic f-ggots wrapped with gauze, that’s swag backwards
half as nice, as the antichrist in afterlife
i’ll have your life, flashed in front your eyes like it’s your last chapter

half cracker, smack ya back in time, to the black and white
saddle rides then laugh at ya, just cuz i’mma mad b-st-rd
rap master, f-cking wanna beef? come and talk with me
i’ll knock you out, like the whole row of kanye’s bottom t–th

i’ll leave you screaming “stop it please”, but i ain’t f-cking finished yet
i’ll kick ya head, till you loose all higher form of intellect
never lost a fight, yo i whipped mr. miyagi’s -ss
but then he got p-ssed, and kicked me out of his karate cl-ss

“sorry man”, didn’t mean it, yo this f-cking kids a g*nius
spit the schemes that make you turn ya head, like a b-tches cleavage
since i was just swimming s-m-n shot out of a jizzing p-n-s
i already had divine traits, like a twin of jesus

mixed with an inner demon, cold heart bitter freezin
shivering just like the f-cking winter season see
cuz i believe in me achieving, dreaming big, is what i condone
the future of your life’s unknown, and in my mind i know that it’d be

kinda dope if i could hold a microphone and be a rapper
give the type of shows where hoes just like to blow my p-n-s after
but cuz i strive for those unlikely goals and dreams to grab
you think my mind i slow like i’ve been diagnosed cerebral cancer?

“what the f-ck?” i’mma give it all i got with raps
like olympic sprinters hauling -ss to finish quickest on the track
until i’m sittin on the top and ripping with a flawless craft
not for dollars but to win the witnesses’ applauding claps

so be quiet and listen while the messiah of rhyme and rhythm
lights the mic on fire by spitting a lightning strike within it
and if you think i’m wack you prolly got a broken dome
or maybe your r-t-rded with an extra pair of chromosomes

kinda like them b-tt f-cking young money b-tt buddies
when i come by, they just run from me, cuz they ain’t
hard as can be, sh-t they far from my league
they hardly mcs, the carter 3’s bars are just weak

you f-cking f-ggots are the reason rap is partly deceased
with a faltering beat in it’s motherf-cking heart cuz it’s weak
you targeting r-t-rded teens with your marketing schemes
so that you have they hearts deceived to buy your garbage released

but i worked hard for this, a lot of trouble it took
my first bars were written in a coloring book
and i ain’t claiming i was f-cking raised up in the hood
i live in forests eating squirrels taking dumps in the woods

but if you wanna come and battle me, i’ll k!ll you wack mcs
even when my brain lags and freezes off to many grams of weed
high past saturn’s rings, eye b-lls j-panese
gl-ssed and pink, bars still clean like lysol, can’t you see?

i’mma be the platinum status rapping king
and still keep it real, with out changing just to match the scene
and make a couple stacks of gs, cuz i’m real
and you can’t deny sk!ll that grabs you d-mn attention like a dire shrill fire drill

but most rappers weak as h-ll mang
so i suspect that they have a single cell brain
wack mc’s ranking in the back, like a tail gate
but when i spit, i can feel the wrath and heat of h-ll raised

cuz i go hard, like a dude jacking off
plus i go far, like an astronaut blasting off
all you other mother f-ckers over hyped like macintosh
i’ll serve you like some nutter b-tters or just like some apple sauce

cuz i’m sick as f-ck, yeah i’m on a different level
while you spit your simple stuff, i just k!lled this instrumental
but n0body’s seeing how i got this big potential
so i’m p-ssed enough to grab a pencil, swing and stab it in ya temple

p-ssed enough to make the f-cking weapon spray so step away
unless you crave pain, cuz my tempers raised but anyways
i’m just being me, like they f-cking recommended aye
back when i was just a little kid sitting in second grade

- matt da mutt

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