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fuckin' you up - d12 lyrics

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[verse 1: bizarre]
’87 maserati
two gold benz, bumping “lodi dodi”
two old friends, twelve gauge
c-cked and loaded, obama’s in office
b-tch, she glad that she wrote it, i’m bad news
riding on a bad -ss cruise, move down the city sl!ck
here’s some bad -ss shoes, smack my b-tch
now i’m on youtube with some bad -ss views
now what the f-ck i supposed to do? head in a trance
i wanna see you dance, weed stink
like a rapper from france, face rotten
late soxy cotton, tie you up
watch you get f-cked by antoine dodson and he ain’t stoppin’
i’m straight nick coppin’, old school
white on white reebok and can’t tell me sh-t
’cause, b-tch, i am the sh-t and the hard tuna fish
you smell this nasty sh-t? nasty d-ck
for a nasty b-tch (f-ck me in my -ss)
let me do some nasty sh-t (i wanna f-ck dude’s b-lls)
i got a nasty clique (who’s your security guard?)
his name is nasty rick (he’s cute…) (f-ck him!)
let me suck on your nasty cl-t
you just a dirty b-tch

[hook: king gordy]
we like violence! we like fightin’!
b-tch, i’m tyson! (i feel like f-ckin’ you up)
with rights and left jabs be [?]
be quite the fire! (but i feel like f-ckin’ you up)
you better protect yourself
too many punches are bad for your health (i feel like f-ckin’ you up)
but you need to ask yourself:
“is he gon’ beat my -ss to death?”

[verse 2: king gordy]
this is insanity, y’all
picture a man finger f-cking his family dog
l!ck on its -ss, stick it up in its v-g-n-l walls
d-mn, he’s having a ball, dog scratching my b-lls
plan to jam my hands in the -ss of this dog
now he’s laughing at y’all, you think he’s insane
but has a unique brain to wrestle with gods
i put zeus in a figure four, allah will get beat and forced
on your knees, you will bleed from gordy intercourse
am i sick? of course, i wear two h-rns, i will hit a dwarf
so hard in the f-cking face with the poles at the north
where santa claus at? while i’m still in the d
top illin’ with some top tens [?] straw hat
the king of horrorcore, there’s a fetus on the floor
been f-cked by a four year old, eat her whole [?]
till that f-cking dead baby comes
visions of dead babies hung by their legs
there’s the head of your baby son

[hook: king gordy]
we like violence! we like fightin’!
b-tch, i’m tyson! (i feel like f-ckin’ you up)
with rights and left jabs be [?]
be quite the fire! (but i feel like f-ckin’ you up)
you better protect yourself
too many punches are bad for your health (i feel like f-ckin’ you up)
but you need to ask yourself:
“is he gon’ beat my -ss to death?”

[verse 3: swifty mcvay]
i sit in a dirty room with candles lit
with an alligator and pit, i’m laughin’ at naked mannequins
with crack in the fryin’ pan shootin’ up smack in my right hand
i never leave the crib without contraband
i ain’t human, i’m half man, an alien
with an att-tude of a taliban strapped with nitrogen
to collide and die, every chance that i can
they don’t wanna try, i’m a man with lyrical cancer
the devil can’t even dance with me
to be heinous, i was made to be
like a poison soaked in a handkerchief
walking behind your b-tch
i put the cloth to her lips like dahmer
and drag her out of that bar
i’m a problem, psychopathic goblin
this llama tear the bladder outta the abdomen faster than zombies
get that -ss beat, like a n-z- in vietnam
with a swastika sign that’s tatted on his body

[hook: king gordy, young zee, both]
we like violence! we like fightin’!
b-tch, i’m tyson! (i feel like f-ckin’ you up)
with rights and left jabs be [?]
be quite the fire! (but i feel like f-ckin’ you up)
you better protect yourself
too many punches are bad for your health (i feel like f-ckin’ you up)
but you need to ask yourself:
“is he gon’ beat my -ss to death?” (let’s go, yeah)

[verse 4: young zee]
i make the three-eight and four-five blast
two guns at once when i multi-task
bow-bow-bow-bow, they both blastin’ off
two clips’ll flip your lil volkswagen car
it’s doctor drankenstein
i change my mind into genghis khan
you dudes face the führer
you wanna k!ll my pets, man, you ace ventura
man, lay down and face the sky
whole new episode, a thousand ways to die
young, man, i c-ck and squeeze it
turn your lil b-tch to a quadriplegic
off the pabst blue ribbon
i slap two women and go back to prison
get a knife stuck in your gut
i’m down with d12 and i feel like f-ckin’ you up

[outro: dj young mase]
shout out to young zee

- d12 lyrics

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