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goat ma5k - rottenmynded lyrics

loopy snoopy: f*ck you talking ’bout, i’ll slap your favorite rapper dead in the mouth, n*gga. rotten, say the word, n*gga

pyro traxx: ain’t no giving up in this, nah. ain’t none of that, not a n*gga like you

venom: yeah, lyrical exercise cuz we definitely gotta flex on these n*ggas

verse: dear slim, i wrote you but you haven’t called up, if you answer, hold up* i’ma fart on the phone line, that’s how you gas a goat up* on contact* and i want cash for this little contract, get a mathers quarter, masked up like “hand all those masters over”…cuz i’m broke* so i’m sending this track to rosen*berg, and half the slaughter*house fam* even nickle is gonna pass the torch, i’m* only 5’6 but my afro’s taller/bumped your tracks of course, since a kid, with a fix* of crooked i (eye), like my glasses falling…adjust them, “and just in* we received news of another puerto rican n*gga tryna smash through doors at forbes, detaching doorkn*bs, said all he wants is for stan to autograph a starter* cap”…whoa…

nowadays, everybody wanna talk like they got something to say* but don’t everybody f*cking bud in (budden) at once, it’s rotten in the flesh like a zombie with a rash, i’m bold en*ough, to go hop the fence* at rihanna’s crib* just to ask for a glass of water* from between her legs, and drink away* like a stream from saratoga* springs, then bend her over* to see her drip…eat it quick, make a scenic fl!ck* on the backroom casting sofa/em said she loves kinky sh*t, lil freak tried to stab my scr*t*m* blood splattered on the* mattress, vulgar* when i spit…tried getting roman’s revenge* with a trojan and bent* nicki to grab and grope her/before either one of us could climax, her ass exploded…like ahhh…
in my bedroom i used to have aftermath on posters* like they’re backstreet boys ta’* young b*tches, way back, when i was on a f*cking psycho*path that led me to smash some daughters…
n*ggas thinking that they’re big shots, when in reality they ain’t nothing but glass mimosas/i’ll smack every clown thinking that it raps ferocious, face painted, rocking all black like*

the crow…

in fact, i noted* i’m in all black, smacking rap clowns, like batman back*smacking joker…i was 16 when i heard em say he wanted to thrash dakota* fanning, and i was thinking me too, we should ping pong the b*tch, go back and forward/even catch some action in a fashion store, and wrap a cord ’round macklemore to bash his skull up* stash my drawers with cash withdrawals that could pay for more than half my wardrobes, and a mansion for us/tell curtis jackson i want mags and kalashnikovs, enough ammo to handle ar*mys…dismantle armor, anim*al, with a brain the size of kardashian wallets…
and i woke up in a sh*tty mood, don’t wanna do no interviews, just wanna k!ll a few of these celebrities you people really get into… eliminate “myself,” * all thanks to cancel culture, sh*t i’ll probably get canceled ‘fore i* get the chance to blow up/tell chance i got rhythm and flow, and want cardi on the tip til her back is broke, but* don’t set me off, b*tch, i’m off*set, and keep 3 blades, hugh jack in wolver*ine…(you got fire!) like i raw*dog smashed a homeless b*tch…and got aids, but decap’d it off* like nick berg, quick verse* k!lling, n*gga, what the f*ck do i gotta do for attention?* say eminem sucks at pop, like he’s trying to vacuum soda?!…or give caitlyn jenner a handjob?, rock a maga hat with yeezys?, bump drakes “controlla?”/wake walt disney out of his rapist coma, then play g*y til i’m scr*ping yola?…or*

*caw*

get crows feet* from my lack of sleep?, i’m tryna compose a flow that* even em couldn’t fathom how i managed to cause so much havoc, he ain’t see sh*t like that since the first time he said the word “f*ggot”* on the slim shady lp, that was my bible, now i don’t buy bull, i do* not step inside of churches, i start melting, that’s why i’m yelling out to god to f*cking help me!
chika chika

dear slim, i wrote you but you haven’t called up, if you answer, hold up…i’ma trace that phone, and lyrically slash your throat up* on contact* and i want cash for this little contract, get a mathers quarter, masked up like “hand all those masters over”…cuz i’m broke* so i’ll send this track to boogie, gonna bash your roster…half of slaughter* ortiz gon pass the torch, i’m* the other boricua, a bad new yorker/bumped

your tracks of course, since a kid, with a fix* of doc dre, your dad from compton…adjust them, “and just in* we received news of that f*cking puerto rican n*gga tryna smash through doors at forbes, detaching doorkn*bs, said all he wants is for stans to autograph his starter* cap”…whoa
ay

you mu’f*ckers relax, cuz rottenmynded not playing

i’m a pile of sh*t…i’m a pile of sh*t…i love you, but i’m a pile of sh*t

la lala* lala la la lala

- rottenmynded lyrics

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