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plastic cats - payday monsanto lyrics

go ahead, say i won’t. say you won’t shock me with that apparatus, you hold in your palm. taze…

ahh…must be the cement in the bas*m*nt, causing the electrical current through my mic device…(laughs) you gotta love it, though. some love, many can’t handle, it comes easy, ask kenny gamble…(heh) as far as y’all little fraudulent establishments…

yo, please don’t forget, a n*gga like p’s more than a threat, they’ll never measure the depth. i’ll touch the core, and connect, swore to protect, the culture vultures tortured with tec’s. they in debt, i confront ’em with corpse, and collect i’m forced to protect, the innocent’s from evil, men do. i get vexed by the garbage, that some people can chew. actors yellin’ they great, more than a little, i question “what you sellin’, snake? is it the steak, or the sizzle?” millennium of mischeif, give you a scrambled page, only the fortuitous can handle payze. but, they luck’s ’bout to soon stop, observe these words is true, like helium balloon pop, i’m hindenburg’n you. good years for centuries, we keep less than a god fearing entity, statuesque with it. in a commercial rap rape, state abort you easily, mister make you take a station break, distort your frequencies…

i see these plastic cats…
with tracks that’s fat…
but, raps that’s wack…
i say “f*ck all that”…
they hear me…
plastic cat…
you’ve amassed all that?
now, who you blastin’ at?
(for real)
f*ck all that…

l*b** lips i swell fat, and strictly spill fat, quick to eat cats, like that dude from melmac. what the h*ll, black? you must be from another planet, tryin’ to uck with my ish, man i can’t understand it. mc’s get smitten (crushed) comin’ at me with they written, while i’m spittin’ hollow*tips off the dome, randomly hittin’, like a strat bullet. but, i’m keepin’ my game tight. why do they pull it, when they can’t even aim right? that sh*t’s silly, i’ll empty your skull, like split philly’s, and perform cigar tricks on your b*tch (like sl!ck willie) make you drop the mic, and open up d*ld* shops in frisco, you’d be a good ceo at b*tch co. i*n*c, that tryin’ me sh*t be unheard of, you’d be flippin’ grade a horsemeat, at quickie burger. (opposition) it’s a empty feelin’, i’m forced to give ’em, like they woke up in the tub full of ice, with organs missin’…

- payday monsanto lyrics

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